Fight School
by arcadie
Summary: Ch11[AU]Eden Hall is a warzone of politics and fighting. Charlie is invited to the top of the social hierarchy by Adam, the leader. But, like everyone else at the school, they both have ulterior motives that the other does not know.
1. Default Chapter

_Disclaimer_: I don't own.

_Author's note_: AU; the Ducks (minus Adam, plus Jesse) are still at Eden Hall by scholarships.

**: Fight School: **

_Name_: _Charlie Conway_

_Ranking: 11_

_Height: 6.0 _

_Weight: 145_

_Physical Description: Curly, dark brown hair. Blue eyes. _

It was the beginning of the third year he was attending Eden Hall and Charlie was beginning to wonder why.

"What the fuck are we doing coming back here each year?" Jesse asked, out loud, echoing Charlie's thoughts. They approached the large, brick building slowly, dragging their feet across the manicured grass.

"Who is it this year?" Charlie knew Jesse would understand what he was talking about. There wasn't a particular title for the person that Charlie was asking about but people at Eden Hall would know what you meant. Charlie and Jesse had quickly figured out how the social hierarchy worked at Eden Hall in their freshman year. Eden Hall was a school that was ruled by the social order and there was always someone at the top of each grade; a leader. They could be challenged, as the only way to the top is through fighting, but there was usually a reason why the leader of a grade was number one. Every two weeks, a list for every grade would be posted on an underground website run by the computer whiz of the school, third-year Julie Gaffney, ranking everyone in the school.

Jesse yawned and stretched as he and Charlie watched Guy and Connie approach the.

"Who do you think," Jesse answered, nonchalantly.

"Hey guys," Connie chirped, hitching messenger bag up on her shoulder. Eternally attached to her hip, Guy gave his nod of acknowledgment to his friends. Like most two for one deals, they were usually too much, especially if it was 8:15 on a disgustingly cheerful morning. Like they have every morning for the past two years, they waited as one by one, someone from their group of friends joined them in the shade of the brick wall.

"What's with the scowl, Spazway?" Averman asked, as he approached the group. "Aren't you happy to be back amongst the yuppies and cake-eaters?"

"The disgusting preps," Fulton added, as he hulked over. He had grown even more over the summer and towered above them at six feet and two inches. Connie craned her neck up to peer into his face.

"Come on guys, we're still acting like we were two years ago. We've gone to school with these preps for two years; we know we can handle them now," Connie said.

"Doesn't mean wehave to be nice about it," Jesse countered. Fulton grunted in agreement.

"Use words, Fulton, your face is enough to mistake for a gorilla," Averman quipped, as the bigger boy cuffed him.

"Wu, still short as usual, I see," Jesse said, nodding as Kenny joined them.

"Fuck you; I'm still taller than Connie."

"We're _all_ taller than Connie," Guy pointed out.

"Hey, I'm standing right here you know," she complained. Charlie watched his friends banter and whine idly with only half his mind. Squinting as he looked across the grass lawn, Charlie rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, thinking about those lists and the underground hierarchy at Eden Hall. _Who do you think_, Jesse had said. That probably meant that Banks was still number one.

"Fuck him," Charlie muttered. The rich, cake-eater had been leader since freshmen year. His first year at Eden Hall, Charlie had been just trying to get the hang of things and his second year, he had tried to ignore those infuriating lists that were posted online every two weeks, but after several scuffles from little yuppies who thought they were better than him…Charlie had come back to Eden Hall for his junior year with a strange obsession to become number one. Who even made those lists anyway? Charlie scratched his head, raking his fingers almost painfully through his curls. When he focused his attention back onto his group of friends, he realized everyone was there.

Inevitably, the conversation turned towards the lists. It was really what was on anyone's mind.

"Who checked the lists before coming to school?" Guy asked. They all looked at one another.

"I did, at the library," Averman finally said. "The standings are almost the same as they were at the end of last year."

"That means that fucking cake-eater's still the leader," Jesse growled. Connie rolled her eyes.

"Don't tell me you guys actually take those lists seriously!" she exclaimed. "And don't tell me you guys are going to do something stupid like pick a fight with a random kid just to be at the top of some underground ranking list."

"I don't see why someone doesn't just try and sleep with that Julie girl so that she'd rig it for them," Russ said, laughing. "It sounds easier than trying to beat Adam Banks."

"I wouldn't mess with her," Goldberg said, holding up his hands and shaking his head. "She knows like everything about everyone. She could blackmail the shit out of you."

"Hey man, I could take Banks any day. He's a total wuss," Jesse said.

"Yeah? Then why don't you, huh?" Averman challenged. Jesse scowled at the other boy.

"He's only the leader cause he's fucking loaded," Guy muttered, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops and looking away. He looked as though he could care less.

"Hey Averman, do you have the list on you?" Kenny asked. Averman fumbled with the zipper of his backpack as he produced the list. Kenny scanned it.

"Aw man, that's weak," he complained. "122 out of 200. Guy doesn't even care about these fucking lists and he's in the top one hundred." Kenny glanced at Guy who was still looking away with an unlit cigarette dangling from his fingers. He shook his head. The sandy-haired boy was getting more and more withdrawn and taciturn with every year.

"Connie, you're right behind Kenny, 125," Dwayne said, reading over Kenny's shoulder. Connie rolled her eyes.

"I only make the list because I'm on a stupid hockey team," she said.

"Holy shit! Charlie, did you check the list?" Kenny asked, looking up, eyes wide. Charlie glanced over somewhat lazily despite the fact that no, he had in fact not checked the list.

"What," he asked.

"You're one away from being in the top ten," he said.

"What!" Goldberg grabbed the list from Kenny's hands. "Whoa, he's right. You're up there, Spazway."

"I don't even want to know where I am on that list," Luis said, laughing.

"Hey I bet if they made a list of the biggest player, you'd be number one," Averman said, cracking up.

"Fuck you, Averman," he snapped. "Just because you don't get any."

"Oh that hurts, really, cuts me deep in the heart," Averman said, putting a hand on his chest. Luis sneered back.

"Why doesn't Fulton ever make the top ten? He could take on anybody at this school," Russ said. Most everyone in the group gave him a pointed look.

"Oh fuck, sorry," he said, realizing.

"It's not like I like dealing to these fucking rich, whiteys," Fulton said. "But they pay so fucking much I can't pass it up." Connie had her closed off look where she nearly consciously decides she's not hearing what people are saying. She hated drugs of any kind, even the occasional pot that nearly everyone in their group of friends smoked, except Dwayne who claimed he didn't need "mood enhancers." Since he was so goofy and an outcast among even them, no one really cared.

Suddenly, silence seemed to fall over not just the ragtag group of misfits standing in the shade of the brick wall of Eden Hall, but also among everyone else milling about. Charlie glanced over to his right. As he suspected, it was Adam Banks and his entourage of desperate followers. It was so trivial, so lame, that Charlie wanted to laugh out loud but he still wanted it. He still wanted to be number one, maybe only to prove these annoying, rich students that they weren't at the center of the universe. It would be so fucking satisfying if some punk, white trash from the inner city became the leader of this uptight, prep school. At that, Charlie did laugh. Yeah, he wanted it. He wanted it bad.

_A/N_: I don't think it was a particularly Gary-Stu thing to do to make Adam's ranking number one. He was basically the leader of the Hawks and he was a pretty big bully so it's really not that far-fetched at all.


	2. Chapter Two

_Disclaimer_: I don't own.

_Author's Note_: I forgot to mention, Portman is also not in this story (for now, perhaps, there's a chance he'll come back), and Julie is also not part of the Ducks. I've also kept most of the Warrior/Hawk characters around to avoid having to make any original characters, which means Warrior ages will be off. Soz, kiddos.

**: Chapter Two :**

_Name: Adam Banks_

_Ranking: 1_

_Height: 5'11"_

_Weight: 140_

_Physical Description: Dark blonde hair, gray eyes. _

Adam slowly made his way across the vast courtyard of Eden Hall. He could feel eyes on him and as trite as it seemed, he really, _really_ wished they weren't. Then again, he would be lying if he didn't admit that a part of him also really enjoyed this sort of treatment. He'd probably enjoy it more if he hadn't been pampered his whole life. That came from being the youngest, the youngest by a lot, as well, seeing as how his older brother Jonathon was already married with a kid. His parents had the tendency to treat him like he was seven, not seventeen, not that he was exactly complaining.

He normally kept his eyes trained ahead as to not make eye contact but today Adam found himself glancing around a bit, particularly to the left since on his right was Larson who wouldn't shut the hell up about some sorority girl he hooked up with. Bored, Adam looked over to the left again. There, standing in the shade of the school wall was a boy, probably his age. Their eyes locked for a second and the first thought that passed Adam's mind was, _who the hell is he?_ He looked kind of threatening, glowering there in the shadow of the wall. Adam shrugged; he had long since realized that there was really no way he could know everyone in the school and there was bound to be one or two lurkers that would never come across his way. It was too bad since he looked kind of interesting, in an out of place sort of way.

"Where's my schedule," Adam mumbled, as he checked his bags. He came up with a crinkled sheet of paper that he smoothed out. First period was on the second floor.

"I'll see you guys later," he said to his friends, before one of them could chime in saying that they had the same class. Adam slowly made his way up the stairs, deep in thought. He didn't mind his friends, when he needed to blow some steam, but there was a difference between being alone and being lonely, and usually being with his friends made him feel lonely as opposed to just being flat out alone.

He heard a loud crash behind him and shrieks of laughter. He turned around to find that glowering boy and another boy who was surprisingly big, wrestling their way through the hall. They were pushing each other into the rows of lockers, apparently enjoying winding each other.

"Come on, Fulton, you can't take that kind of crap from Charlie!" someone yelled. The voice appeared to have come from the small group who were following and surrounding the two…who were apparently named Fulton and Charlie. It took Adam a second to realize that they weren't fighting, just horsing around, something he hadn't even done before. He paused at the stairway, watching them; he wasn't the only one. Some of the students that were making their way to class had paused to watch the scene unfold before them. Others, though, passed by Adam to climb up the stairs, saying hello as they did so, to which Adam only returned with an absent nod.

Now the smaller boy had jumped onto the bigger boy's back, hooking his arm around the bigger boy's neck. They fell down in a heap and erupted into laughter. The only girl in the group punched the smaller boy's arm, saying something that was indecipherable from the flow of noise. Adam realized his brows had been knitted into a small frown. He told himself to relax and turned around to climb the rest of the stairs to his class. He selected a seat by the wall in the very back of the classroom. Even as he pulled out a notebook to appear engrossed at the blank lines, to avoid conversation, someone said, in a voice that was just too chirpy for the given time and mood that Adam was in, "You're number one again. Great way to start off the year, huh?"

Adam doodled something into his notebook. _Fulton. Charlie_. Maybe if he had time he could check out who they were, find out which one was the glowering one. The names sounded…mildly familiar but it was really hard to say when different names were pushed at him each week, asking for his opinion on them. Adam shut the notebook and capped his pen.

"Yeah. Great," he said, his automated voice kicking in.

* * *

_From the Index of Rules, article XIV_

_It is possible to become leader without having to necessarily beat the current leader in a physical fight. If the current leader relinquishes his/her title to another, it is considered a valid win and the current leader is stripped of his/her position and their actions are considered void until the next school year. Their name is removed from the list until the next school year or before if by popular demand; this is usually not the case for relinquishing one's title inevitably leads to public humiliation and mocking._

* * *

Julie was tapping away at her laptop on the fifth floor of the library. She was surrounded by metaphysics books and texts in Latin and Greek which meant that this particular floor was almost always empty. She pushed her chair back and pulled up her legs and rested her chin on her knees, staring blandly at the website before her. It was a hell of a lot of work doing this but it was pretty much the only way she got these brain-dead kids to see her graphics. Without participating in this ridiculous tradition of the lists, she wouldn't have gotten nearly as many commissions as she's had so far.

"I thought I'd find you here." Julie didn't even bother looking up; she didn't even register the owner of the voice, just let the words go in one ear and out the other.

"Fuck off, Scooter. I told you about five times last year that I wasn't going to sleep with you, I'd think that even a moron like you would get it after a while."

"As amusing as that is," said the voice. Julie realized it wasn't Scooter. The voice was laced in irony; Scooter was never sarcastic. Silly, goofy, and somewhat sweet even though he _was_ dumb as a brick, he was never sarcastic.

"I'm not Scooter. Although I can relay the message to him if you want." Julie looked up to find Adam looking at her without his normal entourage of mindless followers. In fact, he looked pretty normal, especially with the corners of his lips pulled up in a sort of wry grin; Julie had never seen him smile before.

"I take commissions by e-mail," she said. "And I can't switch around the lists for you. I really won't; it's unethical."

"I'm not looking for you to design any flyers," he said. "And I really don't care for the lists."

"I would have never expected you to be a liar," Julie said. "Acting as though you couldn't care for being treated like royalty in this place. You enjoy it, at least a little, don't you?" Adam's expression closed off and he looked outside. The large bay windows overlooked the quad and he saw a group of kids playing dodgeball with those big red, rubber balls.

"It's a nice day," Adam finally said, pointedly ignoring Julie's last comment. "Why aren't you out there?" Julie pursed her lips thoughtfully.

"I'd rather not. I have this to work on. Why aren't you out there? Aren't you a jock or something?"

"I have a mild allergy to the sun." He said it so blandly that Julie couldn't tell if he was kidding or not.

"Well, why are you here?" she demanded. "And how did you find me?" Adam had sat down on the opposite side of the table, setting his book bag on the floor beside him, still staring at the kids in the quad. Julie thought he was going to ignore her question, like he had before. Julie went back to tinkering with her website. She wanted a new look with the lists. As of the moment, it was completely plain and while she had liked the institutional look during the past school year, she wanted something with a little more…before she had a chance to put a finger on what she wanted, Adam spoke up, to her surprise.

"I come here often," he said, off-handedly. "If there was one reason why Riley was of any use, it was his loaded dad donating money for this library."

"I guess it is nice," Julie said, a little bit warily. The conversation seemed to be veering towards civility, which seemed _very_ wrong. She hadn't even exchanged two words with Adam before; why was he seeking her out now?

"I like books. I like to read," he said. He glanced at her. "Aren't you going to write this down? Or type it out onto that laptop, storing all of this information until it proves to be of some worth? I might say something blackmail worthy sooner or later." Julie blushed, something she didn't do often. It was true that she took note of almost every little thing that someone else said or did around her. And usually it did prove to be useful. Like Adam said, there was something powerful about having the ability to blackmail them. She wasn't a malicious person, though. Julie only did it to be left alone. She didn't belong with these rich preps; she was here on a scholarship, her and a handful of other kids. She was the only girl in the school who wore cargoes and flannel shirts and left her hair long and boring. She wanted to be left alone and this was the key.

"I like to be left alone," Julie said, although it was hardly a fitting answer to Adam's question, unless he could follow her train of thought.

"I don't mind being alone either," he said. He glanced at her before turning back towards the window.

"Which is why I like to come to the library," he continued. "It's nice. I've perused just about every floor, which is why I knew your little hideout." So there was the answer; he just had a really roundabout way of getting to it.

"What do you want?" Julie asked, directly. Adam glanced at her again. He reached into his book bag and pulled out a notebook and flipped to the first page. He pushed it across the table to her. Julie looked at the page; it was blank except for two names written in a surprisingly neat, narrow handwriting.

"Fulton? Charlie? What about them?"

"I'm looking for a particular boy. He's relatively tall with curly brown hair. I don't know which one he is. I thought you would be the one to ask." Julie looked at him doubtfully.

"What do you want with them? I don't want to endorse social hierarchies of any sort but they're not really your type of people." Adam laughed.

"My type? What is my type?" When Julie didn't answer, he continued, "Rich, cocky boys with cars and egos that couldn't be compensated by anything in their vapid personalities. Snobby girls who reek of some wildflower whose only ambition is to marry rich and live in comfort their whole lives. If you were me, you'd be looking for an alternative too." Julie still looked at him with the same expression.

"They'd hardly fall at your feet, either," she retorted. She had a couple of classes with Charlie and Fulton and some of their friends. They had been acquaintances, not really friends, but they were cool. They weren't anything like the rest of the annoying kids at school that fell all over the ground that Adam walked on.

"They're not like your desperate pack of friends that want your approval all the time. I doubt they'd view you as any different from your friends…because you aren't." Adam just stared out the window. Julie followed his gaze and found it fixed on what looked like Charlie, himself, playing what appeared to be water tag with his friends. They each had a bottle of water in their hands as they chased each other around the grassy quad. She had to admit, it looked pretty enticing. Those Ducks always found a way to have fun. Julie looked at the paper again.

"Charlie's the thin one. Fulton's the humongous one. Charlie's the captain of the Varsity hockey team. He and the rest of his friends are here on a hockey scholarship; he's led them to state championships every year he's been here." Adam got up.

"Thank you for all your help, Ms. Gaffney," he said, with only a trace of mockery. But he still smiled a little bit as he picked up the notebook and put it in his bag. Julie watched him leave then shook her head. That was weird, _really_ weird, and to think she thought Mondays were always mundane. She glanced back at the laptop screen and went back to work.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading, please review on your way out.

**Y0urs-truly**- Yep, I'm sorry I forgot to mention that in the first chapter. No, Julie isn't part of the Ducks, unfortunately.

**Adam**- Adam does play hockey, but not for the school, although that may change. I'm not a fan of drugs, either, to tell the truth, so obviously it won't be a large part of the story at all. Thanks for your insight.


	3. Chapter Three

_Disclaimer_: I don't own.

_Author's Note_: I love the feedback, guys! I really do love any sort of feedback at all; I'm really enjoying writing this so it's nice when other people enjoy it too.

**: Chapter Three : **

_From the Index of Rules, Article VI_

_Fights, both physical and mental, can be implemented by popular demand. If the lists remain stagnant and unchanging in their rankings for over two weeks, fights can be requested. The possible fights between two people are nominated anonymously and posted online. They can be voted upon over the course of one week. At the end of the week, the votes are tallied up and the winning pair is announced. The two involved persons have one week to engage in a fight or else their names are immediately moved to the bottom of the list. _

* * *

Charlie checked his watch as he half-heartedly made his way to his second period class, American Lit. School wasn't on his list of priorities but he was forced to maintain a decent GPA if he wanted to continue playing hockey. Plus, his mom would go mad if he failed a class. Charlie scooted into class just as the bell was ringing and grabbed the prime seat, in the back by the door.

"Hey Adam, so you think you're going to stay at the top the whole year?" Charlie heard a tremulous, excited voice ask. His head snapped up and his dark eyes immediately scanned the room until they rested on the impassive, blonde boy, sitting a couple rows in front of him on the other side of the room. Charlie felt his eyes immediately narrow as he watched the other boy slowly face the first boy who had asked the question. Then, unmistakably, Adam turned his head the other way and pulled a notebook out of his bag and a pen. The silence grew between them as Adam started to doodle and this silence somehow overrode the low buzz of chatter among other students. The other boy seemed a little flustered at this blatant ignoring and Charlie felt a rush of anger. Why did everyone fawn over this asshole? He was clearly full of nothing but shit and himself.

"I don't know," Adam finally said. "We'll see how the year goes." The teacher walked into class, a good five minutes late, and straightened her collar, as though she was standing in front of the class the whole time, trying to suavely shift the blame onto her chatting students for the delay of class time.

"Class has begun!" she barked. Mrs. Larc proceeded to methodically call out each student's name in a clipped voice, as though trying to use as few syllables as possible. Already, Charlie was tempted to just pick up his book bag and leave. One of his friends was bound to have skipped as well and sitting in there at their hang-out, in the shade of the wall by the front doors. He was so sick and tired of all of the propriety in this school, the fake proper conduct that masked greed and megalomania.

"Charlie Conway!" she snapped. Charlie froze, mid-bend, reaching for his book bag to leave. He straightened up, clearing his throat.

"Here," he said. A movement in the edge of his vision caught his eye; Charlie realized that Adam Banks had suddenly started to attention at the sound of his name. Charlie scowled, wondering what the hell _that_ was supposed to mean. _Maybe that stick shoved up his ass started to get uncomfortable_, he thought. Charlie chuckled to himself at the thought.

"I'm going to call each of you up to my desk one at a time to discuss the upcoming research paper. The rest of you read."

"But it's just the first day of class!" protested Sadie. She was the gum-popping, cheerleader uniform wearing girl sitting sideways in her chair near the front of the class. Her hair was an unfortunate hybrid of blonde and brown that Charlie assumed was trendy at the moment.

"We don't even know what to write about," added her friend, who was her clone in every way except that her hair was a monotone color. Charlie recognized both of them, who were usually on the arm of one of Adam's friends.

"That's what the brief meeting will be about," Mrs. Larc said, glaring at the two girls as though appalled by their audacity. "Well? What are you waiting for?" Every student fumbled to get some sort of book out of their bags. However, most of them pulled out a planner or a notebook. Charlie smirked; obviously these high-bred kids weren't readers. He felt vaguely superior in pulling out the battered, library copy of a _Devil in the White City_. Okay, so it wasn't exactly high literature but at least he _had_ a novel to read. Charlie glanced over at Adam and was surprised to find him already engrossed in a copy of _The Stranger_. French existentialism. Something Charlie didn't peg Adam as being interested in. He shrugged and started reading his own book.

Finally the teacher called Charlie's name and he endured the brief meeting. She commended on his book choice and sent him back on his way. As Charlie sat down, he realized that a low buzz of conversation had begun. Students were becoming restless, after flipping through their planners, pretending like they were thoroughly engrossed in reading the days of the months.

"So Adam, is it true that you're going to be moving to the Varsity hockey team?" Charlie's eyes widened in surprised at the sound of the question and his stomach dropped. No, not Adam. Not hockey. Hockey was his one release in this stuffy, prep school. Charlie grabbed his book bag and left the room before he even heard Adam get a chance to answer. And Charlie didn't realize that Adam had been watching him as he slammed the classroom door shut behind him.

* * *

"Averman!" Charlie was glad to see his friend, to see any one of his friends to be honest. As he had expected, his friend was sitting in their usual spot, thoughtfully eating a sandwich that Charlie suspected was from his lunch.

"You aren't gonna have anything else to eat if you eat that now," Charlie pointed out.

"I could just take Guy's. Not like he eats anything these days." That surprised Charlie.

"Eating disorder?"

"No. Guy just doesn't do _anything_ these days." Charlie considered this. It's pretty easy to overlook Guy, since Connie's always been the louder one of the two. And Connie, being the only girl in the group and just being the kind of person that she was, easily outshone people around her, especially someone as taciturn as Guy. Averman was right; Charlie couldn't remember the last time Guy laughed or even _talked_ without mumbling and in short, incomplete sentences. Averman glanced over at his friend who seemed to be deep in thought.

"Don't worry about it too much, Captain," he said, only half-jokingly. "He'll come around. Guy just gets in his moods sometimes." Charlie felt his brow furrow again but relaxed and let the issue go. Averman was right; Guy would come around eventually.

"What are you doing out here anyway?" Charlie asked, helping himself to one of Averman's carrot sticks. Averman half-heartedly swatted away the other boy's hand.

"Math class," he said, with a groan. "You know how much I hate it. It just fucks with me."

"I'm surprised you aren't in remedial math yet," Charlie said.

"Fuck you; that's where I'm headed. I can't even bother to do this algebra."

"Algebra? Damn, Averman, I'm not Dwayne but even I'm in geometry."

"You know, Charlie, this really isn't making me feel any better. How about you?"

"American Lit. The teacher's a complete asshole. I can already tell she's gonna be PMSing every class."

"Yeah, more like menopausing," Averman cracked, laughing at his own joke. "No one's in the class with you?" Charlie paused.

"No," he finally said. "You?"

"Fulton, but he's too fried to notice that I left. I'm kind of glad, too, cause he's so big everyone notices when he tries to cut in the middle of the class."

"He's a giant. How much taller do you think he's gonna be?"

"Hopefully not too tall," Averman said. "He needs to give some of that height to me."

"Could be worse. You could be shorter," Charlie said. The bell rang and Charlie could hear the students starting to mill around in the hallways.

"Fuck, I guess we should head back in," Averman said, pushing his glasses up his nose. He made as if to stand then paused.

"What do you have next?" he asked. Charlie pulled his already wrinkled schedule out of his bag.

"Uh, Spanish."

"Me too." They sat, silently, for another couple of seconds.

"You know, it's kind of early for Spanish," Charlie said, neglecting the fact that it was also eleven in the morning.

"Definitely," Averman agreed. They settled again with their backs against the cool, brick wall and listened as the halls quieted once more and the second bell rang.

* * *

I just heard something really shitty in bio," Jesse announced, as he sat down. He threw down his brown bag lunch on the table angrily.

"What?" Russ asked. He was in the middle of sword fighting Goldberg with two, long donuts. He put down the battered pieces of processed sugar. Everyone else at the table turned to look at Jesse. Sure Jesse was easily one of the most easily angered people on their team but they had been around each other long enough to know when something was _really_ off. And this was one of those times.

"I just heard that Banks is gonna join the Varsity hockey team," Jesse said. The announcement was received by shock.

"What!" Connie said, incredulously. "Are you for real, Jesse? I didn't even know he _played_ hockey." Jesse nodded, his lips pressed together tightly.

"I'm pretty sure."

"He plays for a private league, or I reckon, he _did_," Dwayne said, in between bites of his chicken fingers.

"Then why the hell doesn't he just _stay_ with his fancy little private league?" Luis said. He was scowling and squeezing his sandwich into a carb infused pulp.

"I heard his dad wanted him to get more 'involved' in school," Goldberg said, glumly, absentmindedly shredding his donuts methodically. "Something about looking good on college applications."

"His dad could _buy_ him into any college he wants, I don't see why he has to come and fuck up our hockey team _now_," Jesse said.

"What's that gonna mean with the team? Is one of us kicked off the team?" Connie asked. _Am I gonna keep my position as captain? _Charlie found himself adding, silently. But he said out loud, "I'm sure Orion won't do anything drastic like take someone off the team. We're here on scholarship and Bombay never mentioned any clause in our contracts like this. He would have if there was one."

"I don't know, Charlie," Kenny said, uncertainly. "None of us expected a new player, either."

"Bombay would have told us," Charlie told them again, confidently. "And if our positions get in jeopardy, he'll keep us in. He's done it before." Charlie chose not to acknowledge the fact that it was _still _possible for him to lose his position as captain. They looked at each other uncertainly. It was Monday. Their first practice would be on Wednesday. Then they would know for sure what was going on.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review on your way out

**Punkteacher**- wow, thanks! It's always fun to make the Ducks a little less cheery, heh.

**No name**- Thanks!

**Anne918**- Thank you! I love your fic, _They Say Opposites Attract_, and I'd hate to be bugging you when you have no intention on continuing it but…do you have plans on updating? I really, _really_ love it, the unique pairings…oh nuts, I should be saying all of this in a review instead!

**Emmy**- Wow, thank you! I love A.U. as well but I haven't seemed to have come across any in this fandom. I hope that changes in the future.


	4. Chapter Four

_Disclaimer_: Don't own.

_Author's Note_: Thanks again for the feedback. It's great to see it when I put effort into something. This particularly short chapter is devoted to Guy.

**: Chapter Four :**

_Name: Guy Germaine _

_Ranking: 63_

_Height: 5'10"_

_Weight: 128_

_Physical Description: Blonde curly hair, hazel eyes._

Guy took his time pulling his brown bag lunch out of his locker. The hallway was slowly emptying and he welcomed the coming quiet.

"Come on, Guy." Connie was urging him, pulling on his sleeve. Guy told her he'd meet her in the cafeteria and Connie left him, eager to talk to the rest of their friends over a comfort food lunch. He wished he could summon up excitement for such a small event. Guy shut his locker with bang and stood there for a moment, watching the lock rattle on the locker door.

It was Charlie with the absent father. It was Kenny with the pressuring parents. It was Connie with the neglectful mother. It was Fulton with his occasionally abusive father, although none of them were particularly worried about him because Fulton was six inches taller than his dad, weighed twenty pounds more, and wasn't afraid to fight back. But that wasn't the point; the point was that their circle of friends had more than enough of family drama and Guy wasn't interested in contributing.

He internally sighed (Guy was a fan of silence) and started to walk towards the cafeteria. His hand was poised on the doorknob but paused there, not quite ready to walk in. Through the glass window of the door, he easily found his friends seated at one table. Connie was laughing, as usual, with one hand over her mouth; that was probably the only thing she picked up from her mom. Charlie was sitting across from her, looking more thoughtful than usual, chewing his food carefully, and staring off into space. Guy had considered telling Charlie about all the shit that had happened in his life, but never really found the time or energy. Sure they had been close friends when they were kids but Guy wasn't really sure how Charlie would take it if he suddenly dumped all of his problems on him.

Making up his mind, he turned away from the cafeteria doors and walked down the hall slowly, deep in thought. It's true the Ducks had seen their fair share of ugly stuff in this life but what would they really think of his family? Guy was pretty sure that they wouldn't think that his mom and dad fighting every night was that out of the ordinary (hell, half of the Ducks' parents were divorced) but it still bothered him. The problem that Guy had was that when he was young, he had witnessed his friends' parents fighting and promised himself that he would never let anyone else know what happened behind _his_ closed doors. Guy didn't think any less of his friends, but he had a fear that his friends might view _him_ differently, judge him, if they knew how many bottles of beer his family threw away each week.

Things started to spiral out of control right before his eyes. Or maybe he was just getting too old to pretend like everything was okay once he turned up the music and locked his room door. He felt stupid and depressed at the same time. Fully knowing that he was wallowing in teen-angst mode, Guy found himself walking into the quad. Would the Ducks be weirded out if he told them that the school counselor forced him to meet her after school twice a week? Guy felt guilty every time he told Connie he was going to the dermatologist, not the school _counselor _with a fucked up name (Hitterson, hit her son. How reassuring is that?).

As Guy settled down under the shade of a tree, he tried to imagine his friends' reactions. Connie would be a little pissed at first, for the lying, but she's too nice to hold grudges. Charlie would probably pull his captain act and ask him if everything's okay. Then he'd drop it. Jesse would ignore it. Guy wasn't too sure about everyone else. Suddenly, he froze. Guy heard rustling behind him and his senses became alert. He slowly stood up and turned around.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he said, looking at the blonde boy before him. Guy had seen him around school before. What was his name? Cody? Colin?

"I know you," the boy said. Guy sneered.

"Thanks; that makes me feel special, asshole. Now why the hell were you sneaking up behind me?" Guy knew he was being a total shit face himself but there was something about this school that kicked your paranoia into overdrive.

"You're one of the hockey kids," he said.

"Yeah. Who the hell are you?"

"Don't you remember?" The other boy was slowly advancing and Guy suddenly realized that he was right to have been on guard. He slowly took a couple steps back.

"No." Guy wasn't a moron; he could see where this was headed. He checked his surroundings quickly. The quad was empty. That was to be expected; only one on one fights were considered legal. But still, there had to be a witness to confirm the event.

"I wouldn't be lying if I said I didn't give a damn about those lists. You win, I don't care," Guy said. He reached down to grab his book bag when he realized the other boy was still standing there with his fists clenched. Guy suddenly had the sinking realization that maybe, for once, this wasn't about those lists.

"You and your white-trash friends fucking tied me up and left me outside in the middle of the night! Don't you remember?" Now _that_ rang a bell. Guy suddenly remembered, with great alacrity, the prank that he and his friends had pulled at the end of the previous school year. Dwayne had lassoed Cole (that was his name, Guy remembered now) and tied him up and they laughed about it for awhile. Then they left him there, in the middle of the quad at 3:45 in the morning. Guy would have chuckled had he not had what appeared to be a near two-hundred pound giant in front of him, flexing his arms menacingly. If he wanted to get really nit-picky, he could argue that it was actually Dwayne that did most of the knot tying and he came from a pretty respectable, middle-class family in Texas. Guy decided not to push his luck.

"Yeah, I guess I do," Guy said. His voice relayed none of the silent calculations that were going on in his head. Well, it _was_ one on one. Guy was smaller but probably faster. What the hell; what did he really have to lose anyway? His parents wouldn't give a flying fuck what he did anymore. Guy's pissed off, withdrawn emotions were channeling into recklessness.

"So what are you gonna do, stand there and fucking bitch all day? Come on," Guy taunted, easily provoking the bigger boy. He pushed up the sleeves of his t-shirt and moved into his fighting stance, like a bullfighter beckoning for the horned animal to make the first move. As Guy had planned, Cole took the first shot and swung at him hard. Guy ducked under his punch and threw his own, right into Cole's stomach, as hard as he could. Cole staggered a few steps back and overbalanced, landing heavily on his back. But he was standing again before Guy could blink. They started to circle one another.

"I'm sick of trash like you coming in here and ruining our school!" Cole screamed. Although the quad had only dorm buildings on all four of its sides, it wasn't _that_ far from the school building and the library. Guy wondered why no one heard Cole.

"Well, I'm sick of fucking rich preps ruining my lunch, now come on," Guy said. He watched for movement in Cole's torso. Years of fighting, even before he came to this fucked up school, taught him to look at someone's stomach; it would betray their next move. Guy anticipated Cole's next swing and moved to the right, hoping the bigger boy would overbalance. He almost did and caught himself. In the second that Cole was distracted, Guy moved in to elbow his side and throw a punch at his jaw. He was greeted by a heavy punch in the stomach. Guy endured another hit, this one bloodying his lip, and used his knee to forcefully kick out and up into Cole's stomach. Cole fell back for a second time and Guy used his knee on Cole's stomach and a hand on his throat to keep him there. Guy slowly pulled one fist back and made as if to punch the other boy's face. He paused for a moment then got up.

"Fuck off, Cole," Guy said. He turned away from the boy and started to walk away but when he was stooped to pick up his book bag, he felt an immense weight on his back as Cole tackled him from behind. Guy fell with Cole's heavy weight on top of him and felt his face make hard contact with the ground. Inwardly swearing, Guy struggled but Cole didn't budge and started ramming his fists into Guy's sides repeatedly. Trying to think clearly before the pain started to cloud his judgment, Guy snapped his own head back and felt it make contact with Cole's face. The weight was lifted off of his back and Guy rolled over and stood up and resumed the position he had just a few second earlier. This time, he didn't hesitate to hit the other boy several times in the face before standing up.

Guy took his book bag and watched the other boy warily as he walked away from him. Cole was still on the ground, holding his nose, which reminded Guy of the liquid trickling from his own nose. He swiped at it and the back of his hand returned smeared with blood. Guy turned away from Cole, spitting out the blood in his mouth periodically, wondering if he still had time for lunch.

He was unaware of the blonde girl standing on the other side of the quad, watching the whole scene intently.

* * *

Julie watched the slim boy leave the quad, using those same slow, unhurried steps that he had used earlier. She was impressed. Cole was a giant and he had a nasty personality; Julie knew that personally after one too many double dates with him and Scooter and various nameless girls. She watched as Guy wiped at his nose nonchalantly and shake the blood off his hand as though it was just water. After he had disappeared from view, Julie pulled out her notebook and made a small note. Guy had just earned himself a position in the top twenty.

* * *


	5. Chapter Five

_Disclaimer_: Still don't own.

_Author's note_: Here's the second chapter. Updated with two (although rather short) chapters because of the long delay.

**: Fight School :**

**: Chapter Five :**

Charlie caught Guy by chance; it was past 6:00 in the evening and still no one had seen a sign of Guy since that morning. When Charlie was leaving the dorm building to look for him, his friend was walking in.

"Guy! I was hoping to see you; you've become a hermit since this summer. No one knows where you are now," Charlie said, genuinely glad to see his old friend. Guy looked up and his expression was a lot less surly than Charlie expected; it was just empty. In the diminishing light, Charlie realized that Guy's face was a lot more colorful than just the plain freckled peach that he normally was.

"Holy shit, Guy, what the fuck happened?" Charlie asked. His mouth dropped open. His friend's eye was a mess of purple and black and there was blood still trickling from his split lip. He could tell that his nose had been bleeding earlier because there was dried blood on his upper lip. His knuckles were torn and bloody.

"It's the first day of school! Who the fuck pounced you?" Guy didn't even look at Charlie as he tried to push past him into the building. Charlie caught his arm and stopped him.

"Guy, who did this?" Charlie asked slowly, enunciating each word. He tried to peer into Guy's eyes. He had expected anger, embarrassment, even hurt maybe, but what he found was a hell of a lot more complex. Charlie couldn't even begin to decipher it when Guy's eyes shut down completely, almost as though he had slammed a door in Charlie's face.

"The whole fucking world," Guy snapped. He wrenched his arm from his friend's grasp and pushed past him, slamming the door behind him. Charlie stared, surprised by his friend's abrupt departure. A good five minutes past before Charlie realized his hand was still extended, grasping the thin air instead of Guy's arm and he still didn't know what happened.

* * *

Guy washed his face in the empty bathroom and paused, dripping water and blood into the sink. He watched the crimson blood swirl down the drain then looked up to face the mirror. He looked like absolute shit. His good eye still had purple bags underneath it (result of insomnia) and his face looked pretty haggard. Guy chuckled humorlessly to himself and found the image in the mirror almost frightening. He shook off the water and pulled a paper towel out of the dispenser.

He raked the rough paper across his face and scowled. He was always paying for everyone's mistakes, everyone's mess-ups. Guy thought back to those long nights where he would stay up to clean the mess in the kitchen. His family used primarily plastic cups and paper plates since Guy was in fifth grade, after all their previous plates had been broken and their glass cups thrown against the wall in someone's fury. Guy thought back to all those times when he would have to take the blame whenever he and Connie got into trouble together, when they were younger. Connie's mom had a tendency to "forget" to cook meals if Connie messed up so he would always take the blame. Guy forgot how many times he'd secretly pack all of his dinner and meet Connie at the park. He'd give her his dinner and when she asked him if he'd eaten, he'd always smile and tell her not to worry about it. He did it so many times that he lost count now.

He was always taking the blame, intentionally and unintentionally. Guy was the quiet one; he was stoic and he could take whatever anyone foisted on him. He bore his friends' pain. Swiping at his nose with his hand, Guy realized it had started to bleed again with his vigorous washing. He dabbed at it with his wet paper towel.

Guy turned the water of the faucet back on. Not because he needed to wash the blood that was trickling down to gather in the corner of his mouth, not because he needed to start cleaning the mess off his hands, but because sometimes you need something to listen to when you just want to stop thinking.

* * *

Charlie's mind wandered as he let his feet guide him. He was angry, yes, that was for certain, but he was also confused. One thing was for certain: he couldn't let whoever was responsible get away with it. Realizing he was walking towards the girls' dorm building, he stopped. No, no, he couldn't go to Connie. Charlie wasn't sure _why_ he couldn't but something told him that telling her about Guy wouldn't only just mess her up but it'd mess up their relationship too. He did not want to be the wrecker of one of the constants in their group of friends. Charlie paced back and forth. It was almost completely dark now and Charlie suddenly felt vulnerable.

He started back for the dorms quickly, his breath catching in his throat. Charlie had heard of stories of kids caught unaware, walking around at night, by a group of high (and maybe not so high) ranking assholes who felt the need to just beat a kid up for the hell of it. What the fuck was wrong with this school? Did they pump the cafeteria food with testosterone or something? Why was everyone so hell bent on beating each other up?

Charlie didn't like the way this school was so high in physical violence but that didn't make it any less of a reality. His dorm building came into view and he almost sighed with relief. The girls' building wasn't far but the short path was lined on each side with tall trees, creating a foreboding atmosphere. Charlie allowed himself to slow down a little when he heard footsteps behind him. They didn't seem so far behind him; how had they come so close without him realizing? The footsteps neared without quickening (Charlie wasn't sure how that worked out), and suddenly a hand clamped on his arm.

"Charlie!"

"Holy shit, Jesse, you scared me."

"You _look_ scared," Jesse said, laughing. Charlie snorted and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Yeah well, I was thinking. You just caught me off guard, that's all," he said.

"Yeah? About what?" Charlie considered everything that had been burning in his mind since he had been thrown back into this atmosphere.

"Nothing," Charlie finally said. He held the door open and Jesse walked, just as Adam Banks was on his way out. Charlie stumbled back a couple of steps as the other boy's shoulder connected with his own as he walked out.

"Asshole," Jesse said. "Just ignore that kind of crap."

"Yeah," Charlie answered, rubbing his shoulder. His mind was in a whirlwind. He thought back to Guy, dirty and bloody, and then to the cool, clean boy who seemed to think that he could just go around embarrassing and hitting anyone he felt like. That's when Charlie knew that he would beat Adam no matter what it would take.

* * *

**Punkteacher**- Unfortunately for Guy, he's become my new target for angst, haha. Thanks you!

**Adam**- thank you so much for your thoughtful review/concrit. If the relinquishing rule bothers you in that it seems like a cop out for Adam and Charlie to end happy and whatnot, don't worry, it won't be that way (it'll be long and bitter).

**Emmy**- I look forward to your AU fic(s)! As for Adam and Charlie? Whatever happens, mental or physical, it won't be happy for long (if it's ever happy in the first place).

**Kellyeriefl**- Wow, thank you _so much_ for all of your wonderful feedback. I was so happy to get some feedback on some of my other one-shots. As for my Harry Potter account, there's really not much on there that I'm particularly proud of (just a lot of romance fluff to feed the masses, haha) but there _is_ this one one-shot that I'd really appreciate if you looked at when you have time. It's called _The Hate Game_ (penname is _atalanta's apples)_. Thanks again for your feedback!

**Gftheahda**- thanks! I like political intrigue of any kind, heh. I'm glad you're enjoying this.

**SweetNJuicyXO**- thanks; I'm looking for some fics that aren't the usual "girl comes to Eden Hall" as well, haha.

**Micha**- I have to say that I honestly don't know. I could go either way and I do love chadam but I'm less into romance right now. Well, we'll see, I suppose.


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer_: I don't own.

_Author's note_: Blake, as you know, is a school from the third movie. New Dominion is just a random school from the area that I picked. Sorry for the delay; I forgot I had this chapter written.

**: Fight School :  
**

**: Chapter Six :**

Adam was sitting at his computer, staring at the screen blindly. There was two hours left until his first hockey practice with the Warriors or the Ducks or whatever the group wanted to call themselves, and he was pretty excited. Hockey was something that he was just good at; he wasn't worried about not getting a good position on the team. His train of thought was broken by Larson, who was sitting on his bed, cross legged, looking through some girl magazine. Adam smirked at the sight of his friend; Larson was always looking at some girl magazine or another, claiming it was because of the revealing pictures. They, technically, skirted around the porn rule they had at Eden Hall, although one would have to be pretty stupid to leave their stuff lying around on the day of the dorm inspections. Then again, Larson always was an avid rule follower.

"Hey Adam, the mixer's on Friday," Larson said, and Adam felt a shadow of…what? Fatigue? No, that couldn't be right; he just started school, he couldn't be feeling tired already. Maybe it wasn't tired in the literal sense because he _was_ pretty damn tired of the redundancy of Eden Hall. He let the unfamiliar feeling pass by him.

"Already?" he asked. The calendar on lying on his desk told him that Larson was right for once. Mixers were another tradition of Eden Hall; on the first Friday of school, students from Eden Hall, Blake, and New Dominion would gather to have a stereotypical high school party, hence the name. However, for students of Eden Hall, it was a way to start off the year, see who was still friends with whom and hopefully, a place to move up on the lists, if not by winning a fight, then being seen with the right people. Adam couldn't honestly say he enjoyed the traditional mixer but he also didn't hate it.

"First Friday of school, it's always been like that," Larson said, frowning. "Come on, you're usually psyched as hell for this." Adam suppressed a sardonic expression of disbelief. Fine, let his friend think that.

"Sure, of course I am," Adam said, sounding pretty damn convincing, if he said so himself.

"I'm not sure if Riley's coming," Larson said, hesitantly. "He was saying something about taking a bunch of kids to his home instead. I mean, it's not for certain but it's a rumor. You know he can't just openly go out against the mixer like that, though. It's like going out against you." Adam didn't even bother giving a thought to Riley; Riley was ruled by the _Index of Rules_ and lived for getting to the top. If he missed out on this mixer, he wouldn't have anyone at his back, which was crucial to be number one.

"He'll come," Adam said, simply.

"Yeah," his friend agreed. He was confident now, hearing Adam's opinion. "He like fucking has to. If you're not at the mixer, you're nobody." Adam nodded in what Larson took as a silent agreement. Adam carefully considered Larson's words, which was a rare event indeed. Adam sat, nearly motionless, at his desk, even as Larson excused himself from the room. He felt a rare smile forming on his face. _If you're not at the mixer, you're nobody_. Who better to invite personally than his soon-to-be teammates?

**

* * *

**

"I think you guys already heard from the grapevine that we're going to have a new player on the team," Orion said. Only Orion could say something as ridiculous and outdated as 'grapevine' and still sound menacing. Charlie shifted his weight from one foot to another, on the ice. He was anxious to start moving but the minute they were all on the ice, Orion thought it was a good opportunity to drop the metaphorical bomb and tell them the news. Orion was probably the only person who thought that the middle of the cold rink was an ideal place to talk.

"Is he going to take one of our spots?" Russ asked, anxiously. Orion chuckled, albeit humorlessly.

"The rotations will stay the same. You play well, you're out there on the ice. If I see you slacking, you're on the bench."

"That doesn't make me feel any better," Averman muttered to Dwayne. "That just means that Banks is going to play better than one of us and take one of our spots." Dwayne silenced the other boy with a look.

"Coach, is he any good? I mean, he did make it onto the team because he's good, right?" Dwayne asked. His real question was clear. What strings had Adam's influential father pull to get him on the Varsity team? And _why_? Orion seemed to sense their collective confusion and curiosity.

"Mr. Banks felt it prudent that Adam became more involved in school activities after talking with the academic advisor." They all exchanged glances.

"Right," Jesse said, laughing. "So in order to get the cake-eater into a good college, we all have to pay?"

"I'm not going to answer that, Jesse," Orion said, curtly. They heard the door to the rink open and someone step out onto the ice. Charlie groaned inwardly and took his time looking over his shoulder, knowing who it would be.

"I assume you all have already met. You've been going to the same school for the past three years and all," Orion said, holding out his hand to the other boy. Adam skated over, his eyes completely unreadable.

"Team, this is Adam Banks. Banks, these are your new teammates." Adam appeared to be scanning the ice and when he caught sight of Charlie, standing near the back trying to look inconspicuous, a ghost of a smile crossed his face and he skated over.

"Captain," he said. Charlie glared back at the boy. Was it just his imagination or did his expression turn a little more amused? Either way, it annoyed Charlie.

"This isn't how you treat your team members, is it?" Adam asked. His voice was so low that Charlie wasn't sure if anyone else could hear them, even though they were all watching them. Charlie stiffly stuck out his hand.

"On behalf of the Ducks, I welcome you to the team," Charlie growled, barely getting the words to escape his lips that were pulled tight in distaste. Adam took the hand and shook it firmly.

"I look forward to being a part of the team," he said, smiling; the irony in his voice so thick that even Orion couldn't choose to ignore it. The coach watched the two boys exchange greetings with a crease of consternation on his face. He didn't know the depth of the rivalry between them but he sure as hell wasn't going to let some squabble ruin his team.

"Okay team, laps to warm up." Charlie pulled his hand from Adam's grasp and without a second glance at the boy; he skated away, pulling next to Jesse.

"What an asshole," his friend muttered. "He's already acting like he owns the fucking team."

"He might as well," Charlie said, under his breath.

"He's not taking the team from you, Charlie," Jesse reassured him. Charlie felt someone else pull up next to him on his other side; it was Connie who seemed anxious to see him.

"Can we talk for a second," she whispered, urgently. The trained their eyes ahead, lips barely moving, not skipping a beat skating around the rink. Orion watched them pass by.

"Yeah, sure. What's up?"

"Guy," was her short answer. Charlie scanned the rink and found Guy skating by himself, at his own leisurely pace, thoughts obviously elsewhere. To his frustration, he saw Adam skate up next to the boy and appeared to be asking him something. _He's not taking the team from you_, Charlie reminded himself, letting Jesse's words echoing in his mind. But it sure looked like Adam was trying to curry favor with some of the team members.

"What about him," Charlie said. His voice sounded angry now.

"You know what," Connie said. "He told me he'd meet me at lunch yesterday and he never showed up and _then_ showed up looking like _that_." She gestured in his general direction.

"It was the first day of school. Who on earth could he have gotten into a fight with? And why didn't he tell me?"

"Maybe he didn't think it was important," Charlie said, shrugging slightly. "You know how Guy is." It wasn't a cop-out answer; Connie, Charlie, and Guy had known each other long enough for that to be a legit answer. They all _did_ know what Guy was like. He was quiet and everyone had the tendency of assuming that he was doing just fine. But suddenly, it seemed like a very real possibility that he wasn't.

* * *

Charlie groaned, stretching before pulling on a clean shirt. He had taken his time in the showers, making sure to relax his sore muscles; it was the first heavy work-out he had this school year and his body was protesting. Charlie sat back, head against the metal lockers, allowing himself to enjoy the moment. He was the only one in the locker room and it was nice and quiet. He was back where he belonged and Charlie welcomed the aching limbs and the feeling of having freshly showered after a hard practice. If there was one thing Orion knew how to do, it was to make sure his kids worked for their position on the team.

Suddenly, the door opened and Charlie didn't bother hiding his scowl, annoyed that his private moment had been disrupted. He opened his eyes and felt his scowl deepen.

"You're still here," Adam said. He was still sweaty, seemingly just having come from the ice although Charlie was _sure _that he had seen Adam leave when everyone else had. Charlie pulled on some socks and shoved his feet into his shoes and stuffed his other clothes into his black duffel bag.

"You're still here too," Charlie said, against his will, wishing he hadn't said anything at all the minute the words left his lips. He knew from past experience that when dealing with people like Adam, silence was the best offense.

"I like to practice when the rink is empty," Adam said, shrugging. Charlie stood up and walked towards the door but Adam stood in front of it, unyielding.

"Do you mind?" Charlie demanded. Adam's colorless expression didn't change nor did his position.

"The mixer's this Friday. I invited the team to go," Adam said. _It's _my_ team, you're not a part of that_, Charlie thought, fiercely and childishly.

"And did you want to ask me to go too? We should just go together as a date," Charlie said, sarcastically. "Because we're just that good of friends, you know." Adam blinked, slowly, like a cat that was vaguely annoyed. Charlie swore if Adam had a tail, it'd be twitching surreptitiously at this point.

"The mixer's important. The impression you make there can last for the whole year," Adam said. "So, in a way, I guess I am asking you to go with me." Charlie stared at him, not quite comprehending the words. Adam seemed to be sincerely asking him, as a friend to a friend, except they hardly knew each other. And Charlie most certainly did _not_ like what he knew of the other boy.

Yet…Charlie's mind was already turning, weighing the advantages and disadvantages in a way he would have never done before he came to Eden Hall. Adam was, unfortunately, right. The mixer _was_ important and it couldn't hurt him to show up with Adam. Adam was, as much as Charlie hated the fact, still number one. Charlie had been to the mixers before but he had always just hung out with the Ducks. Going with Adam might give him the opportunity to see what the other high rankers were like. And it could be expected that after a couple of drinks or so, some of them might get cocky and start talking big and potentially giving away their weaknesses, unknowingly.

All of this passed through Charlie's mind in a whirlwind of a second. But why was _Adam_ initiating this? The only person this would help was him; Adam would only possibly tarnish his rep by hanging out with him, a yo-yo.

"I thought it'd be interesting to shake things up," Adam said, as though reading Charlie's mind, or perhaps just his disbelieving expression. "And it doesn't hurt to get to know each other better. We will be playing on the same team and all from now on." Charlie still didn't trust the other boy or his intentions. Maybe it was the vaguely evil, self-satisfied smile playing around his lips or just the plain old fact that Adam was number one for a reason; he fought his way there which meant he's physically battered more than a few people. But Charlie wasn't about to go into the ethics of this school. Fine, Charlie Conway will go with Adam; he could definitely use this to his advantage.

* * *

**Punkteacher**- thanks so much for reviewing each time! I'm quite a fan of Guy; he seems very mysterious; I'm really happy to hear that you think I portrayed him well.

**Gftheahda-** Thanks! The other Ducks will be secondary characters; I like to focus on Guy, Charlie, and Adam, more so on the latter two. However, I haven't completely fleshed out how large a role Julie and Connie could play; it might be larger than expected…or not, heh.

**Tennisfreak328- **thank you!

**SweetNJuicyXO**- Haha, that's fine; I forget so many things too (like having this chapter written, for one…)

**Totchii- **thank you!


	7. Chapter Seven

_Disclaimer_: I don't own.

_Author's Note_: I apologize for the delay, things got hectic or I got lazy but it'd do me a lot of good if you believed the first reason. Things are going to be pretty light in this chapter so enjoy the angst-freeness while it lasts, eh?

**: Fight School :**

**: Chapter Seven :**

Charlie followed Adam wordlessly as the other boy parted the crowded hallways. He felt strangely conspicuous although the streams of students on either side of him seemed to give no notice to him. It was Friday afternoon and people were hurriedly getting their last minute preparations for the night, figuring out how to get there and who would be chosen as the unlucky designated driver.

"Hey Banks," a tall, blonde boy stopped them.

"Larson," Adam nodded.

"How're you getting to Cole's tonight?" He had his arm snaked around the waist of a girl that Charlie vaguely remembered as his sophomore year lab partner.

"Car," Adam answered.

"Your car?" Adam looked at him blankly for a minute, as though not comprehending the useless question.

"Yeah," he finally answered.

"Need a ride?" Before Adam could answer the second asinine question in a row, Larson noticed Charlie glowering behind Adam.

"Who're you?" he asked. Adam gave Charlie a sidelong glance.

"Charlie. He's on the hockey team." Larson lost interest almost immediately and went back to talking to Adam but his girlfriend appeared to be more interested in Charlie than Larson was.

"I'm Jen," she said, and disentangled herself from Larson and edged a little closer.

"Hey, I know you, right? You look familiar," she said. Charlie had to admit, despite her connection to Larson, who Charlie already did not like (popped polo collars? He'll pass, thank you), she was attractive.

"Lab?" Charlie supplied. Her eyes widened.

"Yeah, that's right. Charlie Conway. Hey, you got me a good grade in that class," she said, smiling slightly. Charlie shrugged but gamely went along with it.

"I had some motivation," he said. Jen smiled, obviously pleased.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Going to the mixer tonight?"

"Yeah."

"With who?" She glanced over at Larson who was still talking animatedly to Adam.

"I'm just meeting some people there," she said. At that moment, Larson seemed to suddenly realize that his girlfriend was talking very near another boy, with her hand carelessly resting on his arm.

"I guess I'll see you there then," he said, to Adam. He grabbed Jen's hand and they threaded their way through the crowd. Adam looked amused but the expression disappeared quickly.

"Walk faster," was all he said and they managed to get to Adam's car without being stopped by anyone else. Before Adam started the car, he glanced at Charlie sitting beside him in the passenger seat. Charlie realized the amused expression was back.

"Someone looked interested."

"I don't like Jen," Charlie said, irritably.

"I wasn't talking about you," he said, brushing Charlie's comment away. "She's not really going out with Larson."

"I don't like Jen," Charlie said, again.

"But she likes you," Adam pointed out. "And that's just as bad as you liking her. Especially on a night like this and _especially_ with a girl like Jen." Charlie suddenly realized what Adam might be alluding to. It was a party night. Party means opportunities, especially in a big house like Cole's (or so Charlie assumed it would be big. He had never been to Cole's house before) that was full of rooms. Charlie could suddenly easily imagine Jen trying to kiss him. Would he really feel like stopping her? No. But then again, would he have any intention of turning that into a relationship? No again. He wasn't about to be saddled into a relationship out of one hook-up.

"I'll keep that in mind," Charlie finally said.

"Or I could be wrong," Adam said, lightly. "Jen's reputation is questionable. She might not be looking for something more." Charlie scowled as Adam backed out of his parking space and drove out of the Eden Hall parking lot.

"I don't care about Jen," Charlie said. Adam kept driving with the same smug expression on his face.

"Fuck you," Charlie said, but the words came out a little strangely, a little less harsh than he was expecting. And then, something that he hadn't expected _at all_ happened. Adam let out a strange sort of laugh, like a bark.

"Just letting you know," he said. "Besides, even if you hook up with her, Larson's not going to be any trouble. He's just about the least confrontational person in the school."

"Then how does he…"

"He's rich. He's my friend," Adam said, shrugging. He said the words in the most careless manner that somehow it seemed to be completely unassuming. Charlie rolled the information around in his head carefully and swallowed it.

"Yeah? What about everyone else?" Adam sped through a yellow light.

"Everyone else? I don't know everyone in the school."

"Everyone I should know about. At this mixer." Adam shrugged.

"What's there to know? The one that looks like an albino gorilla is Cole. The asshole is Riley. McGill's a thug and Scooter's alright. He's the best out of the group, anyway. Then there's Tracy, who's basically slept with everyone on a rotating basis since sophomore year and Jen, who you've already met, obviously." Charlie chuckled at the descriptions.

"That's it?"

"There's a few others. But they're probably the most important." Adam was pulling into the driveway of an impressive house. Seeing as how casually Adam had told him all of this, Charlie figured all of it was common knowledge among them. He got out of the car silently, contemplating on whether Adam would have any valuable information to tell him and whether he would be willing to give any of it up. He followed Adam through the front doors and up a winding staircase and down a long hallway. The house was large, as Charlie had expected, and sparsely decorated.

Adam's room was just like an extension of the rest of the house, decorated in dark and white furniture and a thin laptop whirring on a desk. There were posters, though, of several bands on the walls that Charlie decided were acceptable.

"Now you talk," Adam said. "What do you normally do at the mixers? I don't remember seeing you around." Charlie shrugged. What did he do for the past three years?

"I don't know," he said. News of the party usually spread word of mouth which meant that only the extremely isolated wouldn't know the time and place of the party. During their freshman year, the Ducks had found out about the party only because of one of Connie's friends. In other words, they were pretty damn isolated. They hung out almost primarily with themselves.

"I usually just hang out with my friends, on the hockey team," Charlie said. He nearly chuckled, remembering how wasted Jesse had gotten sophomore year and tried to first kiss Connie and when Guy, scowling, broke them apart, Jesse turned his affections towards Guy instead.

Adam had his closet door opened and was looking through what appeared to be nearly the same preppy t- shirt in every color and pattern imaginable. He looked up and locked eyes with Charlie and smiled a strange sort of smile that Charlie couldn't really interpret.

"Well...tonight's going to be a little different."

* * *

The party was already in full swing when Adam opened the door and walked right into Cole's house. His house was in the neighboring neighborhood ("one suburbia hell after another," Charlie muttered, watching the houses pass by) of Adam's and was equally spacious. Charlie, like earlier that day, followed Adam, who seemed to be walking towards the kitchen. There, Charlie found a group of people who each greeted Adam personally.

Charlie could tell that this was the core group. Even if this insane social hierarchy didn't exist and Eden Hall was the normal sort of high school, these kids would be at the top of any metaphorical food chain. Judging from Adam's descriptions, Charlie was able to pick out McGill (who did, indeed, look like a thug), Riley (who looked like an asshole), and Tracy (who, unlike Jen, was only somewhat hot), and recognized Larson and Jen from before. Jen brightened up considerably, seeing him and Adam approach and Charlie could hazard a guess as to why. They needed fresh blood to feast on every once in awhile and Charlie realized that he had become the sacrificial lamb.

Adam nodded in greeting towards everyone and settled back against the counter with ease.

"Glad you could make it," Riley said. His face seemed to be contorted into a permanent sneer.

"Who's your friend?" Tracy asked, before Adam could make a response, if he was planning on making one in the first place.

"This is Charlie. He's the captain of the hockey team I'm on, now," Adam said.

"Yeah, Varsity Warriors, right?" McGill asked. He seemed to look, extremely quickly, between Adam and Charlie and figured it safe to underlay his voice with appreciativeness. McGill's theory was that if someone was cool with Adam, they were cool with him too. Charlie noticed this and realized McGill might be sharper than Larson, but not by a lot.

"Spotless record," Jen said, smiling. "Haven't lost a game since freshman year."

"I didn't know you were into hockey," Larson said. Tracy laughed, derisively, at that.

"Like it's hockey that we're interested in," Tracy said, answering for her friend.

"Then what, don't tell me you're into it for the guys," said Riley, laughing with contempt. Charlie wanted to laugh back right into his face; everything about Riley was so calculated, like he was starring in his own personal movie. He probably pretended like he was. It was pathetic and laughable.

"There's hot guys on the team," Tracy said, smiling to herself.

"Yeah, who's the one, the quiet one…he has a strange name," Jen mused.

"Not him. I was talking about the one from Florida."

"Both of you are fucking insane," Larson said, laughing, and pulled his fingers through Jen's hair, as to remind her that he _was_ indeed standing right next to her and that she shouldn't be wondering about the names of good looking hockey players.

"They're all trash," Riley said. Charlie felt his insides flare at the comment but Adam pressed the heel of his palm lightly but decisively against Charlie's arm, as though to warn him to keep his temper.

"You're just jealous because you're still playing for some private league that takes anyone whose daddy has money," Tracey snapped.

"Ladies. Boys. Calm down," said a new voice that was light-hearted and laced with humor. They all turned to see Scooter enter their circle, his arm around Julie Gaffney.

"Boys?" McGill repeated. "Coming from the one who hit puberty at fucking sixteen, you shouldn't be talking."

"And you're the one whose voice still breaks like a freshman's."

Charlie, already getting bored of their ongoing bickering, looked over to find Julie looking straight at him. They had several classes together the past few years and were pretty good acquaintances. Charlie thought she was pretty cool but not the type to be lured into this sort of group. To be honest, she looked out of place and, personally, Charlie found her to be a lot cooler than anyone else in this crowd.

"_What are you doing here?" _she mouthed. Charlie grinned. They had maneuvered themselves so that they were standing fairly close together. Charlie's arm brushed against Julie's on one side and against Adam's on the other.

"I could ask the same," he said, loud enough for her to hear but not anyone else. Julie shrugged.

"Everyone comes to the mixer."

"Can we go sit down somewhere? My feet are fucking killing me and I need a drink," Jen complained suddenly. Charlie realized she had been watching him and Julie this whole time…and that Adam was quietly observing the whole thing, the amused smile beginning to tug at his lips again.

The whole crowd slowly made its way back to the den and Charlie realized just how many people must have filed in through those doors while he was in the kitchen. The big house seemed packed. Charlie flopped himself down onto the middle of a plushy, leather sofa and Adam settled himself on one side of him, Julie on the other side. Much to Jen's chagrin, the placement of people remained nearly the same.

"I need to ask you something," Julie said, to Charlie, once the conversations started moving again.

"What?" Charlie noticed cans of beer or soda appearing in peoples' hands. Next to him, Adam was carelessly holding an open can of beer but only sipped from it occasionally.

"You know Guy? Guy Germaine's your friend, right?"

"Yeah, sure. Known him since like kindergarten."

"Is he coming tonight? Where is he?" Charlie shrugged.

"Not sure. He'll come. And when he does, he'll be with the rest of the Ducks, I guess." Charlie accepted a can of beer but following Adam's example, he barely drank from it. Charlie wanted a clear head over a buzz. _You win some you lose some, _Charlie mused.

"Dominic!" Riley was greeting a giant of a boy with a head full of curly black hair.

"He goes to Blake," Adam murmured. The next person to join them was a girl named Haley from New Dominion, who was wearing an extremely short skirt, which all the boys attempted to look up every time she crossed and uncrossed her legs. Each time a new person entered the room, Adam would quietly tell Charlie who they were from. This way, Charlie was able to effectively remove from his mind anyone who wasn't from Eden Hall, therefore, pretty unimportant.

Charlie was starting to enjoy himself. Things were going smoothly and he was actually not minding the attention that Jen and Haley, who appeared to be better friends than Jen and Tracy, were giving him, filling up Julie's vacated seat, who had left earlier with Scooter.

"Wait, so you're from Eden Hall? I've never seen you around before," Haley said. Charlie shrugged.

"He used to hang out with his hockey friends," Jen answered for him. "He's only just figured out that it's okay to branch out." Charlie smiled. Jen suddenly seemed to remember something.

"Oh yeah, what _is _the name of that one guy? The really quiet one, you know," she said. Charlie cocked his head.

"It looks like everyone wants to know where Guy is today," he said.

"Guy, yeah that's right, that's him."

"He has a girlfriend. Connie. They've been going out since second grade."

"Who's Connie?" Haley asked.

"She's on the hockey team," Jen said. Her voice seemed to be laid over with a mild disdain. She turned her attention back to Charlie.

"I don't know, it didn't look like he had a girlfriend, or else why would he be looking so cozy with that other girl? Scooter's girlfriend?" Charlie nearly jumped up in surprise.

"Wait, Guy and _Julie_?" he asked, choking on his beer. "When was this?"

"Like _right now_," Jen said. "And I never said I was into him. I just think he's kind of hot in a brooding way." Charlie sat back to digest the information. It was too weird to consider without finding out if Jen was right.

"Excuse me," he said, and somehow wrestled his way off of the couch. He saw Adam watching him leave. The unfaltering gaze was unnerving.

* * *

_From the Appendices, part 2_

_As mentioned in the Index, there exists a thing called mental fights. They can hold an element of physicality but mainly depend on one's mental endurance. Mental fights occur when one person explicitly challenges another to undertake an ordeal. However, one must keep in mind that they too must successfully complete the task they have thought up in front of an audience to win this fight. In terms of who wins, if both people successfully complete the given task, the audience decides in a majority rules manner._

* * *

a/n: With that stage set, I can say, in good faith, that the next chapter will be much more eventful. Thanks for reading.

**Punkteacher**: Thanks. I have fun writing Charlie because his personality seems so distinct.

**Ef**: Wish granted, although I am a terrible regular updater…

**SweetNJuicyXO**: Haha, you have no idea how long I've been waiting to write this.

**DanishGirl**: Thanks. Hopefully the next update won't take as long.


	8. Chapter Eight

**: Fight School :**

**: Chapter Eight :**

"Come _on,_ Guy!" Jesse hollered from hallway. His voice filtered in through the half closed bathroom door where Guy was standing in front of the mirror, hands on the sink, staring down into the dingy, porcelain bowl. He didn't want to be this person, this depressed, angst-ridden kid. But he was and he hated himself even more for it. It was an ironic sort of catch-22 situation. He was depressed about being depressed now. Guy chuckled humorlessly and raked a hand through his sandy hair.

It was almost time to go to the mixer. Ah, the stupid old tradition that all of them contributed to even though they were firmly anti-whatever everyone else in the school advocated. Behind the glamour of calling it the mixer, behind the reputation of always being the biggest, wildest party of the year (maybe only rivaled by the graduation party), it was just another shitty, high school party where under-aged kids got wasted and high, thinking they were the shit. It was a party just like all the other hundreds, thousands of parties going on at this very moment all over the country on a Friday night.

_Fine,_ Guy thought. _My life is absolute shit but I have the opportunity to go and get wasted and forget about it for a night. What ever would Bombay think_? Guy had a funny little saying. Some people say "What would Jesus Do?" Well, his was "What would Bombay think?" For some reason, Guy thought a lot about his peewee hockey coach would think of him. Sure, Bombay was always closest to Charlie but he was kind of like a mother hen to all of them. And Guy got a vindictive pleasure, not an overwhelming sense of guilt, whenever he imagined what Bombay might think if he saw how far Guy had fallen.

Maybe it was because Guy was so used to everyone disappointing him that he wanted to be the one doing the disappointing. Maybe he'll be disappointing someone tonight. He'll be disappointing Bombay by doing what hundreds, thousands, of other kids must be doing right now.

"Guy, get your ass moving, we're gonna be late!"

Guy finally looked up at the mirror and smiled. Time to go.

* * *

The Ducks slipped through the massive double doors unnoticed and surveyed their surroundings. The place was already packed and it looked as though only one out of every three kids or so was someone that they vaguely recognized from the hallways of Eden Hall. For a second, they all stood there, maybe in awe, maybe just sizing up the situation. The house was massive and directly in front of them on opposite ends of the area was a pair of staircases that spiraled away from each other and led to what appeared to be a long hallway full of doors that led to rooms. 

Jesse shrugged and broke their reverie.

"I'm getting something to drink," he said, and threaded his way through the crowd. Averman followed him and they disappeared among the masses of unidentifiable faces.

"Come on, I think I see a foosball table over there," Russ said, and he, Kenny, and Goldberg disappeared as well. Guy vaguely wondered where Charlie might be, seeing as how he hadn't come with them.

Connie's arm brushed against Guy and he looked over at her. She looked pretty, cheeks flushed, long hair shinier than usual.

"Want to go sit down or something?" she asked. Guy shook his head and she looked obviously disappointed. Guy felt a small pang but it wasn't strong enough to make him want to change his actions. Connie's expression changed from disappointment to concern and Guy internally swore. She wasn't going to try and interrogate him now, was she?

"Guy, I've been worried about you lately," she said. There was an urgent undertone in her voice. Guy shook his head.

"Connie, this isn't really the best time for this," he said. "Do you want something to drink?" She shook her head, looking at him with her wide blue eyes, looking worried, and Guy had to lean forward to give her a small kiss at the corner of her soft mouth. She gave him a tiny smile.

"I'm sorry," he said. He left her, threading his way through the crowd alone. Connie watched him disappear, wondering if she was completely in denial about growing apart. His retreating back was like a fortress and she wondered if she was even willing to make the effort anymore to break it down.

* * *

_From the Appendices, part five_

_Games, unlike mental fights, hold a larger degree of physicality. Usually preferred to mental fights, they are tests of endurance, will, and strength. They act as though a physical fight in that the winner moves up in rank as the loser moves down, as would happen in a fight. Games as spectacles are popular and there are several stock games that are well known to everyone (see Appendix 6); however, after the hospitalization of one student from the result of a game has lead to apprehension regarding games in general. They are now outwardly defined to be uncouth and barbaric and games have become quite rare; yet they still persist in quiet popularity, being played on occasion and drawing a large crowd when it happens._

* * *

"Guy Germaine?"

It took Guy a minute to register his name being called and looked up. A drink held loosely in his hand, sitting one side of an enormous leather sofa, the other side occupied by a couple making out, he looked completely emotionless. His blank face looked dead in the dim light of the den. Then, squinting, trying to force his eyes to focus on the girl standing in front of him, he rubbed his eyebrow, confusion giving some life back to his face.

It was a girl he vaguely recognized; long brown hair, lighter than Connie's. Wide set eyes and dressed neither revealing nor uncomfortably. Connie had come wearing pointy heels and a tank top. Guy noticed he always did that, compared every girl to Connie. But he couldn't help it, considering they've been dating since they were ten. Guy leaned back to lean his head against the sofa, not really thinking at all. He was sick and tired of thinking and worrying and stressing. He felt like he was floating, maybe, drifting around in a haze that wasn't really a dream but wasn't really reality either; it was like being smothered with apathy.

"Yeah?" he finally answered.

"Can I have seat?" she asked, gesturing towards the empty space between him and the couple.

"Go ahead," he said, and she sat down, back towards the other people.

"I'm Julie, Julie Gaffney," she said.

That name was familiar. He'd remember it in a second. Wait for it…Oh yeah. Julie. Computer whiz. Girl who writes up the lists. What a tedious job.

"I was in some classes with your friends, Dwayne and Ken."

"That means you're in the AP classes," he said.

"Yeah I guess so," Julie said, and looked down at her hands, which were twisting themselves in her lap. She looked as though she was picking through what she wanted to say.

"I saw you in the quad," she finally said, looking back up. "With Cole."

Guy stared straight ahead, face dead once again, and took a sip of his drink. It tasted like acetone.

"I was impressed. Cole is pretty nasty and he fought dirty."

"I'm so glad you thought to note down his fighting techniques instead of, you know, getting help or something," he said. He laughed a little, out of disbelief.

"And what would they do?" she demanded, a little stung. "You know how the faculty is. They'd let Cole off with a warning and he'd jump you again. They think the fighting breeds ambition and determination."

"They wouldn't if everybody didn't endorse it and follow it like a religion," Guy snapped, and turned to properly look at Julie for the first time. He suddenly felt angry and the emotion coursed through his body like a fire, racing down his veins. And it felt good. It felt good to feel something.

"I know," she said softly.

He finished off his drink and threw the cup on the ground.

"It's so fucked up," he said, quietly. "This school. Everybody in it."

"I know," Julie whispered.

Guy stared at her. She reached up to brush her fingertips lightly for a second against a bruise that still shone darkly, high on his cheek. Guy caught her fingers in his hand and pulled them away from his face. He leaned in and kissed her.

* * *

Charlie swore under his breath. Why did Cole's house have to be so big? Who really needed all of this space, anyway? He felt like he was walking around in circles, looking for Guy who apparently had dropped off the face of the earth. He had run into Kenny and Goldberg and Russ, who were in the middle of some table game. He passed by Connie, whose eyes looked a little red; she blamed it on the smoke. He saw what seemed like all the Ducks mingling, drinking, having a good time, but no Guy. 

It wasn't that Charlie was worried that somewhere in the house, Guy was cheating on Connie. It just didn't seem like a possibility. Guy and Connie would be together forever, with no bumps along the road; it was like a fact, a reliable fact of life that could be counted on. But it did remind him that he really needed to check on Guy, especially how he's been lately.

Suddenly, Haley was at his side, pulling him by the hand through throngs of people. "They're over here," she said, and lead him through a narrow back staircase.

"You sure they're here?" Charlie asked, as he followed her. She took him through a hallway and listened to one of the many massive wooden doors.

"This is it," she said, and opened it, gesturing to Charlie to go through the door first. Charlie did and Haley entered after him, shutting the door behind her.

The room was empty.

Charlie turned back around to give the girl a disbelieving look.

"Well, I thought they were here," she said playfully, and walked over to the large window. It over looked a large courtyard; someone had lit a barbeque and Charlie, from his spot by the door, could make out a sports court and a pool a little ways off. People were milling around, illuminated by the porch lights.

"Jen was going to try and hook up with you today," Haley said. "I'm just protecting you."

Charlie laughed. "You girls are crazy."

"At least we don't beat the shit out of each other," she said, and smiled very sweetly. "I've heard about how messed up your school is. I mean, they do it at New Dominion too but we don't make it a game. It just happens."

"I need to find Guy," Charlie said.

"You're not his dad," she said. "But if you really want to leave, you can."

Charlie stared at Haley, who still stood by the window, illuminated by the light. She stood with her hands on her hips, a little smile still lingering on her face, as though she already know what Charlie's decision was going to be. How couldn't she know? She knew she was a beautiful girl and below everything else, Charlie was still a guy. And Charlie knew it too; all of his clever calculations, his careful tracking of school politics seem to fly out the door as he looked at Haley standing before him. She really was very attractive.

He slowly walked over towards her. She was tall and wearing heels so that she could look straight into his eyes with a fairly combative look in her own.

"And how are you no more dangerous than Jen?" Charlie asked. He picked up a small section of her hair and twisted it between his fingertips.

"Because you won't see me again after tonight," she said. "Jen, on the other hand, is on the lookout for boyfriend number seven."

"Yeah? And you?"

"I just want you for tonight."

Charlie laughed and kissed her hard, one hand threading through her hair, the other around her waist. He pressed her against the window where below, students were gathering in the courtyard, watching two boys make their way slowly to the front of the crowd, a third boy following with a rake in his hand, letting it drag on the ground behind him.


	9. Chapter Nine

**: Fight School :**

**: Chapter Nine :**

"Guy Germaine? You better get up and off of that couch if you know what's good for you."

Guy could already feel a presence, maybe several, behind him. Julie's expression turned surprised as she registered who was standing before the couch. He gave her an irreverent shrug and slowly stood up and turned around. Before him stood a tall boy, flanked by Cole and another guy whose name he couldn't think of.

"So Germaine, might I ask you what you're doing making out with my girlfriend?"

"Cute, Scooter, but shouldn't you confirm that we're actually dating before you get all offended on my behalf?" Julie said sarcastically. She stood as well and searched Guy's eyes almost defiantly. "We're not going out," she said. Guy shrugged again.

"Well, is that it?" Guy asked.

Scooter was staring at Julie with a badly concealed, hurt expression on his face.

"Can we talk about this?" he asked.

"I don't see what there really is to talk about," Julie snapped, her eyes still on Guy.

"Come on, Julie, we had fun freshmen year, right?" Scooter asked. He was getting close to pleading. Cole and McGill were looking at Scooter incredulously.

"Fucking hear yourself, Scooter!" McGill said. "You're embarrassing all of us. Are you seriously going to let Germaine get away with this?" His words were slurred; Guy could smell the alcohol, pungent and obvious on his breath. He was completely wasted.

Scooter shrugged. "Julie doesn't think we're going out. Germaine has nothing to do with this."

"Fuck that," McGill said. "I'm sick of him, and the rest of the trash running around our school thinking they're fucking one of us. Here's your chance to do something, Scooter."

Guy chuckled inwardly. He loved how presumptuous they all were, how they all immediately assumed that everyone wanted to be just like them. They sounded like a bad record, broken and repeating forever on the same bullshit.

Scooter frowned at McGill.

"I don't want to fight you," he said to Guy. Guy just shrugged. Let them talk it out among themselves. Maybe they'll get so wrapped up in the talking that they'll forget the problem all together.

"You don't have to fight him then," McGill persisted. "Just pick one of the games."

"_Rake_?" Cole suggested. It kind of confirmed Guy's suspicions that Cole spoke in one word sentences.

Scooter paled. "Fuck no, what do you guys think I am? No, we're not doing that. We're not fighting period."

"You make me sick, Scooter," McGill said. "I'll fucking do it, you pansy. You can be the raker. You up, Germaine? You better be cause if you aren't we'll just fight you here right now. Cole's mommy doesn't like getting blood on her furniture. We don't want to make Cole's mommy mad yeah?"

"Yeah," Guy said, indifferent as usual. It only seemed to infuriate McGill.

"Are you crazy?" Julie hissed, grabbing at Guy's shirt sleeve, trying to force him to look at her. "Do you even know what you just agreed to?"

At the same time, Scooter was trying to talk McGill out of it as well. "You know you're going to have to get raked too, don't you?" he was saying.

"Yeah so what? It'll be worth it to see blood running down Germaine's back," McGill said. Guy suspected it was the alcohol that was channeling into the other boy's recklessness and lack of self concern.

"Guy please, don't do it?" Julie asked. "It's dangerous."

"Yeah, the last time they played this game, someone died," Scooter said.

"Shut up, Scooter, that was an urban legend," Julie said, exasperated. "But I'm not kidding, Guy. This can get dangerous."

Guy suddenly started laughing and didn't stop. Julie felt a cold chill run through her body.

"You guys really think I give a shit about what happens to myself, don't you?" he asked, and looking at him, both Julie and Scooter knew the answer.

"Well, I won't be the raker," Scooter said, quietly.

"Cole?" McGill asked. Cole grunted in reply that McGill seemed to interpret as 'yes.'

"Alright then, it's settled," McGill said, with a wide smile. "Let's do this."

* * *

They slowly walked to the courtyard and the crowd parted before them. Guy gave no notice to the dark congregation of faceless people. Julie kept persisting and pulling on Guy, begging him to stop but he shook her off. Something started fizzling in his stomach and it was exciting him. It felt like before when he knew he had nothing to lose and just beat the shit out of Cole. It was the reckless behavior of someone who would walk along train tracks, skate down the highway, not to feel alive or exhilarated but just because they had stopped caring.

The shivery, scratching noise the metal rake made as Cole dragged it in the ground behind them was making Guy's molars ache. _Fucking lazy moron,_ Guy thought. _Can't even bother carrying the rake. _Two wooden boxes, about a foot and a half in height were place in the center of the courtyard. McGill approached them first and stood on top of one of them. Guy followed suit. He shook out the shivery feelings in his arms and legs and took off his shirt. The crowd before him stood there silently, watching him with glass eyes that reflected the light but no expression.

He turned to look at McGill; his face was blazing, reflecting the light of the fire that was burning high in the barbeque grill that had been set up before them, maybe as a perverse decoration, maybe as a barrier to keep the crowd at bay. McGill had also taken off his shirt and the red of the flames was flickering across his body as well. He had torn off a long section of his shirt that he rolled up into what looked like a fat cotton sushi roll.

"First person to make a sound loses," he said. He placed the wad of cotton in his mouth and smiled. The expression looked evil.

Cole stood behind them both, holding the rake, and at McGill's signal, he swung it with all his strength at Guy's back. The metal tines fell the length of his back, scratching him from the shoulder blades all the way down to his waist.

The pain was sudden and the intensity of it unexpected. Guy felt his knees buckle and he half stumbled on the wooden box and regained his footing. Stars flickered in his eyes as his ears rang. He slowly steadied himself and he vaguely heard the sound of the rake making contact with flesh and registered that McGill had just taken his first hit as well. The pain had barely faded enough for Guy to begin to think clearly when the second blow fell on him. This time, he did stumble, breathing as silently as he could, clenching his teeth. He could now see why McGill had ripped up his shirt. He stood back up.

Every time Guy's head began to clear, Cole would rake his back again, causing his ears to roar and his head to go nastily blank. It was after the seventh, or maybe eighth (Guy had long lost count) hit when he felt the blood beginning to trickle down his back. Or maybe that was when he first registered it; Guy really couldn't say. He reached around to touch it and his hand came back sticky with blood that shone crimson. The flames felt hot on his face and he felt sweat beginning to form, on his chest, on his upper lip.

He looked over to McGill to find that the other boy wasn't doing much better. It was perhaps three or four hits later, McGill removed the cotton from his mouth, leaned over to the side, and threw up. But still the game didn't end. The crowd watched, perversely transfixed, watching Guy and McGill like it was a spectacle, wanting to pretend it wasn't real so they could keep watching without the guilt.

"Oh my god, Guy!" That was a familiar voice.

"Someone fucking keep the girl away." That was a boy. Guy couldn't tell who though. Probably one of McGill's cronies. He looked up to see Connie forcing her way through the crowd. She broke out of the crowd and started running towards Guy when a guy grabbed her by the arms from behind and started to pull her back. Connie immediately stamped on his foot and elbowed him in the stomach and he doubled up and released his grip. Guy would have smiled fondly at how easily and quickly Connie took care of that guy if he wasn't in so much pain. It took two people to restrain her.

"Let go of me!" she shrieked, becoming hysterical. "Let me go!"

"She is one fierce kitty cat," a boy said, his voice carrying through the otherwise silent crowd. "Is she like that in bed too, Germaine?"

Guy didn't know how much longer he was there, the blood flowing freely down his back now, staining his pants, listening to Connie scream herself hoarse. His back stung as sweat mingled with the open wounds. He felt his vision beginning to go black, starting to lose consciousness.

"What is going on here?" The entire crowd finally pulled their eyes from the front to turn around and find Adam standing in the back, looking frighteningly cold and calm. They watched and parted as he walked to the front. He surveyed the scene impassively but thoroughly, looking at Guy, sweating and on his knees, McGill, glaring back defiantly, and Cole, standing behind them both with the sheepish expression of a little kid who was caught doing something wrong.

"What is going on here?" he said again, turning back to the crowd. "Can no one tell me?"

Somehow, despite the cool, quiet voice, everyone knew that Adam was angry and it made them afraid, incredibly so. His gaze rested on Connie and her tear streaked face, who had sunk to the ground in exhaustion. Her arms were still held by two boys.

"Let her go," he said, quietly. They dropped her arms and immediately, Connie went to Guy, who swayed and leaned against her as she helped him down from the box. She inspected his back, full of bruises and gouges of various lengths. Some were shallow nicks, others were deep and bleeding sluggishly. Some looked like punctures, others long gashes that intersected one another. She picked up Guy's discarded shirt and began to carefully wipe up the blood.

"McGill. Explain yourself," Adam said. An order, not a request.

"Germaine is too self-satisfied," McGill said. "I'm doing what I can to put him and the rest of the scholarship trash in their place."

Scooter started to protest, probably since Julie was at Eden on scholarship, but Adam silenced him with a raised hand.

"I found him making out with Julie," McGill continued. "Scooter's too fucking pussy to defend himself so I had to."

Connie dropped the shirt in her hand and stared at Guy in surprise; he was staring at nothing, sitting motionless on the ground.

"Irrelevant," Adam said. "You know this game was determined to be invalid." His voice was light, almost cheery, as though he was talking to McGill in the hallway in between classes. As the situation was, Adam stood clean and cold before the bloody and half-crazy McGill.

"I doubt Germaine knew that," he said. "And I know you did. Only you would want to play this tasteless game."

McGill looked down, anger and embarrassment clouding his eyes until he couldn't see the stones on the ground before his eyes. He was silently seething; did Adam actually fucking dare to scold him, like he was a little child, in front of all of these people? And the brunt of his anger stemmed from the fact that he couldn't do a damn thing about it. He had to answer to Adam. They all did.

"This ends now," Adam said, quietly. "You deserve to be punished, McGill, but I think you're done a pretty good job of it yourself."

Adam turned away from McGill.

"The game's not over!" McGill screamed. "Even you don't have the authority to stop it, Banks!"

There was deadly pause. Adam cocked his head, back still towards McGill. Then, before anyone even began to see it coming, Adam turned around and punched McGill neatly and squarely in the jaw. It made an audible cracking noise as McGill was thrown from the platform he stood on. If anyone questioned Adam's authority, wondered why he persisted at the top of the list, they were reminded of why they usually didn't.

"Stay away from the Germaine, McGill," Adam said. "Stay away from the Ducks."

He walked towards Guy, who was still slumped against Connie. Adam offered his hand to Guy who slapped it away and somehow managed to get up and stalk away from the crowd, leaving everyone stunned and holding their breath. Adam merely looked down at his hand now smeared with Guy's blood. He picked up McGill's discarded shirt and wiped his hand, slowly and methodically, then threw it in the general direction of where McGill lay, slumped over and moaning in pain. He walked away in the direction opposite to the one Guy had left in. It was only after he was gone that people dared to start breathing again.


	10. Chapter Ten

**: Fight School :**

**: Chapter Ten :**

Connie could not think or breathe for a minute, sitting on the stone patio. Everyone around her had witnessed her humiliation; one minute she was the concerned girlfriend, the next minute, she was the stupid, foolish girl that had been screwed over by her boyfriend. Making out with another girl at a party? _Shows he really didn't even care who might see,_ Connie thought, bitterly. _Doesn't even care about making me out to be the fool._ _He could have had the decency to at least not get caught. _She stared down at the bloody t-shirt in her hand and felt sick. There were so many contradictory emotions that were battling against each other inside her that she felt physically ill. She held onto her sides and let the anger, confusion, worry, and perhaps a little forgiveness, fight each other out.

"Connie, you okay?" Someone was at her side, pulling on her elbow to get up.

"I'm fine." Her mouth opened automatically, as though attached by a hinge, reciting an automated message.

"Bullshit," said Jesse. It was Dwayne and Jesse, standing on either side of her.

"Forget about what they said," Dwayne said.

"They must have gotten it wrong; you know how Guy is, maybe that Julie girl just kissed him and he was too surprised to stop her or something," Jesse said. He missed the frantic look that Dwayne was shooting him.

Of course. Suddenly, a little, treacherous gleam of hope seemed to blind her and consume her until she realized she needed to find this Julie. Find her and have her confirm Guy's innocence. She knew how hard she was setting up herself for disappointment; she knew that was why Dwayne was trying to silently signal to Jesse not to try to justify Guy's action. Because it would only give her false hope. Because it would only be ignoring what was already there: the ending of Guy and her relationship. It would only be dragging on something that was already dead.

But would she give it up because of a third person?

Like hell she would.

Connie didn't know who Julie was but she suddenly scanned the crowd with renewed vigor.

"Connie, let's just go," Dwayne said. "Jesse and I'll take you to Duke's and we can have milkshakes and burgers all night long."

"No, I'm not leaving until I find Julie," Connie snapped.

"Do you even know what she looks like?" Jesse asked. He had realized the mistake in what he said. "This is dumb, let's just go."

Connie caught sight of a girl standing on the opposite end of the crowd. A tall, good-looking boy was trying to talk to her but she was only staring at the wooden crates, the small splatters of blood that had formed around each one. Her long hair was bland and unstyled, her clothes comfortable and not particularly trendy; but suddenly, in Connie's eyes, Julie looked better than herself. She looked beautiful, almost, in a strange, untraditional way, with the firelight flickering over her hair, picking out the gold, and causing a glow to settle in her cheeks and eyes. Maybe she was imagining it but Connie wasn't sure; after all, Julie must hold something special, something better, that Guy saw, right?

She strode over to where Julie stood and only when she was five feet away from Julie did the other girl seem to notice her. And when she did, her face paled; it was obvious that Julie knew who she was.

"Julie?" Connie asked. Her voice came out more cordial than she had expected.

"Julie Gaffney," she said, and held out a hand, as if to shake. Connie stared at it for a minute, then took her hand and gave it a perfunctory shake.

"Are you going to beat her up?" asked the boy standing by her. "Julie didn't know Guy had a boyfriend. I guess it's the same deal. I thought Julie and I were going out but Julie says we weren't and that I was making things up."

"Scooter, shut up," Julie said.

"Look she might," Scooter said, genuinely worried. "She's on the lists, Julie. She's on the hockey team. You just made out with her boyfriend."

"I know who she is, can you give me some breathing space for five seconds?" she snapped.

"Just trying to look out for you." He scowled and stalked away.

"That was nice," Connie remarked. "He was just worried. Apparently I'm a formidable person."

"You're not going to beat me up," Julie said, exasperation lining her voice.

"Yeah? How do you know that? You don't even know me."

"Look, call me sexist but you're a girl and I know you're more sensible than that," she said.

Connie stared at her for a minute, then realized the breath she didn't realize she was holding. It was true; actually hitting this girl, hurting her physically, didn't even seen like a possibility.

"So you're Connie," Julie said. And real regret started to form and knot in her stomach; seeing an actual girl solidified Guy's girlfriend, made her a person, a real person. A real person that she just helped make miserable.

"I just have to know. Did you kiss him first? He's strange sometimes. Sometimes he doesn't want to hurt people's feelings. Maybe he just didn't stop you," Connie said. Already expecting the answer, she had instinctively pulled her long hair over one shoulder, as if by physically shielding herself, she wouldn't be hurt by the other girl's answer.

"I'm really sorry, Connie, I am, and I'm not trying to renounce my responsibility in all of this either, but he kissed me first."

There it was. Hitting rock bottom. Connie staggered back as though the other girl had hit her.

"Nothing will happen between us again, I promise," Julie was saying, but Connie wasn't listening. She just turned her back on Julie and started walking away on shaking legs, Dwayne and Jesse trailing behind her tentatively. It was only until they got into the car and Jesse began to back out of the large, circular driveway, that Connie, slumped in the passenger seat, turned her head away from her friends and quietly began to cry.

* * *

Adam was picking up a bottle of water and heading out the front doors when Riley suddenly grabbed his arm. 

"What the fuck was that about, Banks?" he demanded. "Whose side are you on?" Adam shook his arm from the other boy's grasp.

"Side?" Adam echoed. "There's no need to be so dramatic, Riley. There are no sides. I just do what benefits me."

He rifled through his pockets looking for his keys.

"Yeah? Trying to play nice with the hockey trash so you can play on the school team with them? Cause daddy won't pay for your hockey practices anymore?"

"You better shut your mouth before I break your jaw," Adam said calmly, locating his keys.

"And you better remember who you belong with," Riley said. "You choose the wrong side and, number one or not, we'll bring you down."

"I'll be waiting for it." Adam left, slamming the front doors behind him.

* * *

Guy sat on the curb, head buried in his drawn up knees. His bare back still burned and he could still feel it bleeding. His thinking was on a complete halt and he only vaguely registered the faint music that had begun to play at Cole's house. 

A car pulled up; Guy, squinting, looked up, shading his eyes from the headlights. It was a round, shiny Audi with windows too dark for Guy to see who was in it. The car looked like it would belong to a rich girl, but when the door on the drivers side opened, it was Adam that came out. He walked around the car to stand before Guy. He stood there for a while, just quietly watching. Finally, he held out a bottle of water. Guy stared at it for a second before taking it. A mouthful went to rinse his mouth, and the rest was split between pouring it over his head and down his throat.

"How's your back?" Adam asked.

Guy shrugged then winced. The movement made the cuts in his back open and close painfully. He was in too much pain to stop the other boy from walking around and inspecting his back. He jumped at the touch of the cool fingers, carefully following the lines of the wounds splayed across the skin.

"Well it won't kill you," Adam finally said. "There's a couple there that look like they might need stitches."

He sat down on the curb next to Guy.

"McGill is an idiot," Adam finally said.

"Because I couldn't tell without you telling me," Guy said.

"He tried to knock me out when we were in elementary school. Peewee hockey. Well, he did, but it didn't change anything," Adam said.

They lapsed into silence again. Guy could vaguely make out a few stars in the sky. He would have laid down on the pavement except even thinking about it and the pain it would cause made his jaws ache.

"You should leave," Adam said.

"I'm fine. I don't feel like going home yet."

"I mean Eden Hall."

Guy looked at Adam.

"Gonna tell me what everyone's been telling my friends and me since we got here? Telling us we don't belong, that we're not good enough? We don't want to be here any more than you want us here. We're here because this godforsaken school will apparently make something of our lives but so far, it's only made it hell."

"That's why you should leave," Adam said again. "Get out while you can."

"Right, and that has nothing to do with your xenophobia," he said.

"Shut up, Germaine and listen to me," Adam said. "Where can I go? You tell me. Blake? New Dominion? They'll find me wherever I am and they'll make me fight. They'll jump me every chance they get. I'm never going to escape this system. But you? People don't know you yet. That's why you have to get out while you still can, before they start noticing. Because they did today."

"You didn't exactly help," Guy said. "Yeah, telling them not to mess with me? You can't honestly think they won't get me sometime. You just encouraged them."

"They would have regardless. Have you checked the lists lately?"

When Guy shook his head, Adam said, "Julie Gaffney might as well have written and posted your obituary too. She put you at 18 and dropped Cole down to 25. He used to be 9. They would have gotten you anyway even if nothing happened today."

"I don't check the lists," he said.

"Yeah that's obvious because if you did, you would have had the sense to not show up today. Coming to Cole's house after beating the shit out of him? That was real smart. You're lucky you got away with that. They could have killed you."

Guy didn't answer. Yeah, he had to admit that was pretty dumb of him, now that he thought of it.

"You must have beat him pretty bad to have Julie pull that kind of ranking on you guys," Adam said. "She might have a crush but she's never biased." He gave Guy a sidelong glance. Guy caught it and suddenly, a corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile and suddenly he was laughing, not ironically or in disbelief but genuinely. It felt strange and unfamiliar but not unpleasant. In fact, it felt pretty damn good.

"Yeah, he got messed up," he agreed.

"You're in such deep shit, Germaine," Adam said, laughing.

"You still didn't help me any," Guy shot back, but he was laughing too.

"Yeah? Well then maybe it's a sign you should listen to me and get the fuck out of here."

He stood up and, oddly, ruffled Guy's hair. Guy looked up. A quick flash of an expression shot across Adam's face. An ironic smile maybe. Or perhaps just a weary blink of an eye. It was there and gone before Guy could even really figure out what it was.

As Adam got back in his car and drove away, Guy realized that whatever it was, it made him a little more inclined to believe what Adam had told him.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Fight School**

**Chapter Eleven**

Haley was asleep, or appeared to be, when Charlie heard his name being called. He untangled himself from the blankets and left the bed when he heard her stir next to him.

"What is it?" she mumbled.

"I think I have to go," Charlie said.

"Yeah go ahead, get out of here," said Haley, waving her hand, face half buried in the pillows.

"You're going to be okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." She seemed like she was already falling asleep again. "I live like two houses away," she said, voice muffled by the pillows. "I'm gonna go home in the morning. Close the door behind you."

Charlie had to smile. He was kind of disappointed that he wouldn't see Haley again, most likely, but somehow, that seemed to only preserve her. Seeing her again would kind of ruin this crazy night and make her mundane all over again.

"Bye," he said.

He heard her say "see you" as he shut the door.

The party was still going strong; the heavy wooden door must have effectively blocked out a lot of the music that he could hear downstairs. As he passed by the large grandfather clock in the hallway, he read the time to be nearing two a.m. He was getting tired.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he was suddenly accosted by Averman and Goldberg.

"Man where were you?" Averman cried.

"Upstairs," he said, nonchalantly. "What's up?"

"What's up?" Goldberg repeated. "What's up?!"

"Chill Goldberg, he doesn't know," Averman said.

"What happened?" Charlie asked, bemused. Worry began to prickle at the skin on his arms.

"It's Guy," Averman said. "He decided to play this sick game, I don't know, Charlie. Him and McGill. I don't know, maybe McGill put him up to it."

"Where is he?"

"We don't know," Goldberg said.

Averman shrugged hopelessly. "He disappeared after Adam stopped the game."

"_Adam_?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah he nearly broke McGill's jaw. Told him to leave us alone."

"And you trust that?" asked Charlie, exasperation in his voice. "It's Banks."

"Well what are we supposed to think, Charlie?" Goldberg demanded. "You weren't exactly looking out for Guy today. I'm glad Adam stopped it. He was the only one who probably could."

"I still don't trust him," Charlie said. "He must have brought us here knowing that would happen! He's trying to break us down, to get rid of us, like everyone else at this school."

"Are you hearing yourself Charlie? You sound like a paranoid freak," Averman said. "What you should be is _grateful_ that he's at least on our side."

"_Our side?" _Charlie echoed. "No, even if I'm being ridiculous I know that at least is false. Banks doesn't have sides. He'll only do what benefits himself."

"No offense, Charlie," Goldberg said, in an ironic voice. "It kind of seems like that's what you're doing, not him."

Charlie stared, open-mouthed, after his friends as they walked away from him and disappeared in the crowd.

* * *

The door to Haley's room quietly opened and a figure slipped in to sit at the edge of the bed. They appeared to stare at the prone figure of the girl, chest slowly moving up and down in deep, even breaths, then moved to gently shake her shoulder. 

"You can stop acting now," Adam said. Haley jumped up, any sign of sleep completely disappeared.

"I almost fell asleep," she shot back. "Waiting for you. What took so long?"

"I had some other business to take care of," he said, off-handedly and vaguely.

Haley scowled. "More stuff that you'll probably never tell me about?"

"That's right. And to think some boys only like you for your looks and not your brain," he said.

"Oh shut up. So whose lives are you planning on destroying now?" Haley sat up and pulled the cover around her, pulling her bare legs up to her chest.

"I do not _destroy_ lives," Adam said, a bit irritably. His usual guardedness and cool was beginning to dissolve as he settled himself more comfortably on the bed. "In fact, I'm planning on doing some good this time. You know, give back to the community and all of that."

"Bullshit," Haley said, laughing. "Even if you win a humanitarian award, it'd probably be a byproduct of some scheme to benefit yourself."

Adam shrugged. "No harm in that; I help myself and others. Sounds like a win-win situation."

"Except everyone can't win," Haley said. "You know it, from all those twisted games you Eden Hallers play. Someone has to lose."

"Oh, well, I won't be saintly enough to sacrifice myself as the loser, if that's what you're going to ask," Adam said, mildly.

"I knew you wouldn't."

"Congratulations for wooing Charlie Conway, by the way," he said.

"Is that supposed to be some way of patting yourself on the back?" Haley asked. "You're the one who told me to."

"Only because I could tell how much you liked him from the look in your eyes," Adam said, batting his own eyes in effect.

"You're a right comedian today," Haley said, dryly. "And you know I wouldn't have tried it if you didn't tell me to. Jen's going to be pissed at me for a month. So what was the reason for that? You couldn't have just been playing matchmaker."

Adam tapped her mouth with a finger. "More secrets I can't divulge."

"You're such an ass, Adam," she said.

"Girls go crazy at the word 'secret,' have you noticed?" he asked. "Let's just say it benefits me."

"You haven't changed one bit," Haley said. "Since we were in first grade. You always had to be the best and you don't care who you ruin on your way to the top. Sometimes I think you're different but you always prove me wrong."

Adam was silent for a moment, his light, joking mood completely disappeared.

"If you don't think I've changed," he said, quietly. "Then you don't know me as well as I thought you did."

* * *

"So I have some bad news," Adam said, as he and Charlie climbed back into his car. 

"Guy? Yeah, I heard," Charlie said, curtly.

Adam gave him a sidelong glance. "You mad at me, Conway? I didn't know something like that was going to go down. That game's illegal and McGill's insane, everyone knows that."

"So you didn't know your cronies were planning on jumping Guy like they did just a few days before?"

"If I had known Guy didn't check the lists and really seem to care about his own welfare, then I would have told him to keep his ass at home tonight. I don't know why Cole went for Guy but it made Julie make a huge upset in the lists."

Charlie, not knowing this, kept quiet and tense, not wanting to be charmed, be won over, by Adam, but at the same time, kind of wishing maybe he really was a decent person.

"Then on top of that, Guy made out of Julie tonight and Scooter saw. He's had a thing for Julie since…well since she came to school here. McGill is crazy, I told you. Even if he hadn't had those totally convenient excuses to go after Guy, he probably would have found some other reason. He's just in it to get you and the rest of the Ducks out of here. So, to be honest, the best thing for Guy to have done is to have stayed home. But none of us really realized that until it was too late."

Charlie stayed quiet as they watched the dark blur outside their windows, only an occasional light from a house breaking the continuous blackness. It would only be until they got into the city by Charlie's house that it would get lighter; the suburbs were only speckled with a few streetlights.

"McGill is completely ruined, at least for this semester," Adam said. "So there's something."

"Why do you play this game?" Charlie suddenly asked. "You're at the top. You could abolish it."

Adam laughed, a bitter and short laugh. "Actually, Charlie, I can't. Leaders come and go but this game has been a constant at Eden Hall for generations. I play the game because I have to, and if I have to, I'd rather be at the top than at the bottom." He looked at Charlie.

"I think you'd agree."

And, driving through the quiet, dark suburbs, Charlie felt the strange sensation of realizing he had something in common with Adam Banks.

* * *

Adam was halfway up the stairs when he heard his father call his name. Although it was past three, there was light pouring from underneath the heavy door to his study. He took his time coming back down the stairs and pushed the door open and stood at the threshold, refusing to go in any further. His father stood by the dark, mahogany desk, strewn with papers held down by various crystal paperweights. He had a file in his hand and was inspecting it, a pair of rectangular, tortoiseshell glasses on the end of his sharp, thin nose. A half-empty crystal tumbler filled with amber colored liquid was set precariously on top of a stack of reports. 

"You're late?" he inquired.

"Based on what?" Adam asked. "My nonexistent curfew?" If his dad was going to just pull a lot of nonsense, authoritative bullshit on him, he was not in the mood.

"Who were you taking home today?" His dad was casually flipping through the papers of the file although Adam knew his dad was much too invested in dictating his life that he was much more interested in the conversation than he was letting on.

"Charlie."

"Charlie who?"

"Conway."

"The scholarship boy."

"Sure." Adam turned to leave.

"I don't like you associating with people like him, Adam," said his father, putting down his file. He gestured towards the chair before the large desk, telling him to sit down. Adam allowed himself to turn back around and take a couple of steps closer but didn't sit down.

"Is this about hockey?" he asked. "Adam, you need to mature and realize hockey won't get you anywhere."

"Like how Charlie wouldn't have gotten anywhere near the _gates _of Eden Hall without hockey?" Adam said, ironically.

His father rubbed the end of his nose and picked up his drink. Adam noticed it left a brown ring on the papers below it. His father, also noticing, absently ran a finger along the line, tracing the circle over and over again.

"It's different. You're different," he said. "You shouldn't be playing hockey, Adam. Riley, Larson, McGill, all the other boys play it to have something to do during lacrosse and soccer off-season. They only play charity games for godsakes."

"Maybe that has something to do with the fact that they can't play worth shit," Adam replied.

"It's a low class sport," his father countered.

"And what would you have me do?" Adam asked. "Play polo? Prance around on a horse? Play competitive squash wearing white shorts and cuffed socks like the Upper East Side?"

His father was staring at Adam now; all pretense of casualness was gone.

"Well if you haven't noticed, Dad, we're not exactly part of that anymore," Adam said. He was beginning to enjoy the redness of agitation spreading across his father's neck.

"Yeah, you wish we were back in New York, don't you? You miss being with all the yuppies and bluebloods. You want to have a summer home up in New Hampshire with all your old fraternity brothers."

"You watch your words," his father said, voice low and measured.

Adam barreled on, adrenaline starting to work its deadly influences. "And now you're here in the boondocks of Minnesota, trying to impress all of these middle-class ignorant, impressionable suburbans with your stories of how we used to live. Why do they think we transferred? Because of business? Yeah, I guess that's true."

His father's grip on the tumbler was getting tighter and tighter, the knuckles showing white, hand shaking.

"Yeah, I mean, if you weren't caught screwing your business partner's wife I guess he wouldn't have dropped your ass out of the contract."

"You will quit hockey, I will make you."

"No." Adam started walking to his door. "No, I will play for Eden Hall and I will own the team and every victory. I will be scouted and go to school on scholarship and not have to use a dime of your filthy money."

He slammed the door behind him and as he walked into the quiet foyer, he could hear the breaking of glass against the wall as his father threw his tumbler in frustration. And Adam found he really couldn't bring himself to give a damn.


End file.
